But sometimes, when you love someone, you stop noticing the way that they hurt you. You stop noticing the red flags. Or you ignore them. Whichever one works at the time.
You tell yourself that it doesn’t matter. You make excuses for their behaviour. All in the name of love, you tell your mother. “He loves me, he loves me, he loves me”.
Last Friday night, he took your heart and threw it onto the motorway. The next morning, he told you he’d rip out his own to replace it. Then he kissed your neck and you were whole again. For the moment, for the moment, it was love.
So you forget about the bruises and tell him that you forgive him. Cover them up with sleeves and paint. What about the psychological bruises? You don’t notice them until it’s too late.
Until one day, he’s gone and you’re in love again. And the new guy asks why you flinch at his silence. And you tell him that quietness has always meant anger and conflict.
And you’ll realise that he might be gone but his bruises linger on.