I know it might have looked like "all or nothing" from your point of view, but you were terribly mistaken. At five years old, I promised to never love a man that couldn't appreciate slow dancing in the kitchen.

But I loved you for years anyway, and let myself down. I had to accept that dancing alone was as good as it would get.

So when you wouldnt choose me in the end and expected me to stick around anyway, it wasn't all or nothing.

I realized you had never chosen me. And I stopped choosing myself too.

That's wasn't love.

The menace  is of itself.
"Me" being the only troubles to face.
As one falls, will one always succeed in getting back up?
Alone,
As the answer lasts for so long.
How long?
How long until reality smashes and shatters the dream?
The truth being, as it always has.