"Would you love me, if I was anything less, than what I am?"

I wondered while I quietly
Admitted to myself
That I do in fact love you.
I love how we fight
I love how me make love.
I love your hands on me
And your casual caress.

I may have not been
In touch with that fact
For a long time
And for all these years
But it would seems
That indeed there's no place like home.

And it would seem indeed
That home was always with you.
I saw the pain in your eyes
And I knew you were talking about me
When you said:

"You don't know what it's like, when the girl you love, doesn't want you but continues to exist and you just wish you could see her"*

No I don't.
I walk out on people in a second
So they wouldn't walk out on me.
Kind of how you walked out on me
And made me wait
Just sit on my hands and wait.
Always knowing
You took that for granted
Fully aware and bitter in the idea
That you could never fix that.
But maybe you're fixing it now.
6 years later.