This is not a love story

This is the story of radiant daffodil walls and pretty aquamarine cupboards containing nothing but dust and disappointment. This is the life and love you always wanted with all of the illusive paint peeled back.

This is the story of wiping last night's tears away, with this morning's flower petals. Softly fingering stems and admiring the delicacy of their nature, while being repentant of the delicacy in your own.

It is feeling more and more desperate with each argument. Feeling more and more dependant with every threat. Forgiving him, but never being able to live with yourself.