You once said that I made you feel like you were living on the moon.
What you failed to mention was that we forgot to pack our space suits.
You failed to mention that without your helmet you were suffocating.

You once said that I made you feel like you were floating in the ocean.
What you failed to mention was that you can’t swim.
You failed to mention that your limbs thrashed in the water, desperate to keep you alive.

You once said that I made you feel like everything was okay.
What you failed to mention was that “okay” is apparently a synonym for “not as bad.”
You failed to mention that you still felt like the world was crashing down around you.

You once said that you weren't scared of anything.
What you failed to mention was that that included death.
You failed to mention that that would be the last time I saw you.

You once said that you knew I loved you.
What you failed to mention was that it didn't matter.
You failed to mention that it wasn't enough.