Today he lost me and nothing hurts more that seeing him hurt.
And that may be a stupid thought, considering I have probably cried more because of him in two years than he has in a life time.
It may just be my selfless self, because my heart looks like a battlefield after war.
Sixteen days into December I decided to be truly strong.
My friends would say I was strong for taking so much when I was actually too weak to end suffering.
Because my love for him was bigger than all the problems combined, but it was killing me inside.
And I'll probably never end this poem sweetly or lightly because you can only say it bluntly,
because it can't be sugar-coated,
because using other words is useless.
Today he lost me.