Believe me

believe me when I say there is no way to make “I do not love you” sound poetic

you cannot tip toe around it

You cannot sugarcoat it

he does not love me

he does not love me and I can taste it

I can still taste him

I convinced myself half of him, the lower half of him, was better than nothing at all

I convinced myself his touch could make up for his lack of affection

don’t get me wrong, this is not a “how dare you do this to me? how dare you treat me like this?” Because I know very well I asked for it, I know very well my hands trailed your chest.

This is a “why does love like that exist? How can love change overnight?” Because it did. Because it was in fact love. He used to say I lived in his head and all his dreams were about me.

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