In loving and losing,
it is I who have lost most.
Gave you my hand and promised not to stray,
you fought against the things you wouldn't say.
You say we're both to blame, but I'm
rather inclinded to believe
You lost me.
I don't need to prove that I cared about you,
after three years of putting you first,
if you counldn't see it,
well i guess thats how it ended right there.
When people break up...usually, isn't one of them happy that it's over?
Or wouldn't they still be together other wise.
So yes.
I'm happy.
You pushed me and pulled me,
and watched my heart die before your eyes and did
NOTHING while you on occasion after a particularly bad fight,
would profess your love.
Love doesn't hurt. Doesn't cause fear.
I don't think you know what love is. Not if you could look me in the eyes for those months we lived together and not see...well...me.
I don't love you anymore.
After all of our disfunction...happiness seems so...
natural.
And maybe that's because it's so early into this deep submersion of her and I. Me and her. But it seems so easy to love her...