First love

The first. The first that bursted through the seams and beamed some kind of light into me. 

Soul searching and researching your body lines. I would be lying if I didn't find him attracted and contracted love for him. 

First love...I never bowed down or found myself controlled by something higher but it felt dyer to be by his side. 

The first time he laid next to me naked and stripped from his walls I cried for the beauty that someone felt safe to be held by me. 

The first time he asked me to be real was the first time he asked me to quit smoking. He felt like my nicotine so I did. 

The first love that broke every wall down that got me to shovel through the anger for my dad...the first love that asked me to move or else he would move to me. 

He broke. We broke. He held my broken heart until I fell asleep. 

I hated you. I hated that I trusted you. I hated that you took a piece of me forever. 

Forever you will be the reason why I moved back to Here.

Forever I see you and forever you see me. Forever I will never forget you. 

Now...he didn't turn me gay. He didn't flip me to the other side. He didn't make me think all men are evil. There wasn't some kind damsel in distress retrievel. 

He lead me in being comfortable with my sexuality. 

And it ain't heterosexuality. 

It took him 3 1/2 years to apologize. To recognize that a conversation was needed...it weeded out my insecurities. It belittled all the lies I told myself. 

I looked at him and smiled and cried and I saw how much we meant to each other. 

In some sort of happy ending, some sort of indie rom com that actually leaves you sad. In some sort of alternative Disney princess...he asked me to build shelves in his new home with his wife. 

Is this the walk of life? The way of life? 

Your ex boyfriend who broke your gay heart just asked you to build shelves in his home for his wife. 

Welcome to my first love.