Was I wrong to think that you were the happiest with me?

That I light the fire in your eyes?

That you were the most comfortable with me and I meant something to you.

Was I wrong to think that our hands fit perfectly like the way your dress mends well with your curves?

Was I wrong to think that–was I wrong to hope that you would think the same and feel the same about me?

Were you just playing with me then? Like a little ******* puppet?

Was I a toy to you?
Oblivious in your little game?
Oblivious with your intention.

Perhaps I was.
Perhaps I do not light the fire in your eyes, but you do to mine.

Perhaps you are not the most comfortable with me, but when I'm with you, it feels like home.
And I suppose you do not think our hands fit perfectly together. I do. I thought we were a perfect puzzle piece.

Perhaps you never loved me to begin with.