Sometimes I wonder if you like me or if- You just like the idea. The concept. Seeing me is like seeing yourself, looking in a mirror. How do I know that you love me, and not the concept. You’re projecting. It’s all conceptual.
If imperfect people create perfect love, then what are we? If imperfections make you beautiful, did I become grotesque?
If the concept is more alluring than the truth, then is it a lie? If the concept is better than me, then maybe I’ll never be your lover.