It wasn't you. It was never you.
Somewhere deep down I think I always knew that.
I let myself get caught up in the twisted whirl of summer love.
Summer.
Lo-
No, no, not that simple, complicated, beautiful, four letter word.
You didn’t want me. Not me.
You just wanted some warm, feminine body to grasp
in some kind of perverted rush of feelings you had the gumption to call love.
Love.
Simple, complicated, beautiful, four letter word with a world of meaning.
I might have always known it wasn't love
but I'll always care about you in a truer purer way than you could possibly dream.
It's not about heated bodies moving in unison,
it's more akin to two souls collaborating in a glorious dance across the surface of life.
It wasn't you.
I'm sorry if in some depraved sense you thought it was me.