Blood

I am sorry my dear, but I am not your blood.
I was never there when you took your first step, or when the boy you thought you loved broke your heart.
Nobody was.
The truth is, you never had any. They left you. Never wanted you,
sucked every drop from your veins, left you to shuffle from house to house, never really finding home.
And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but we are much more than blood.

I am your lungs, for the times you tried to take a breath but realized the air around you was made of poison, your heart when yours was broken beyond repair, your hands when all you needed was to feel, your feet when yours refused to walk another day.
You are the skin that keeps me from falling apart.

Those of the same blood love because they must,
bonded by walls
and names
and matching blue eyes.

But not us.
No.
I love you, because I love you, because you're
you.
And that my dear, is so much more precious than any blood.