When I told her I loved her, I meant it. 'Love' was not a word I'd ever used loosely. I'd given it a lot of thought. We were good together and I was happy.
Then one night, you walked through the door; the air became electric and everything changed. A fire was lit, full of feelings I'd never felt before. All I knew was that I wanted more. Our conversation that night was fluid, it flowed and it flowered. You listened with interest, not just waiting for your own turn to speak. As you turned to walk away, with a smile on your lips and a swing in your hips, I felt a piece of myself leave with you. I was glad; I wanted you to have it. I wanted you to have more though, and I wanted to have you.
When I'd told her I loved her, I'd meant it. The problem is, now my definition of love has changed. She deserves for someone to feel for her the way I feel about you. I never meant to hurt her, but the greatest lovers are murderers first.