I remember the day you asked if we had always been this way.
If the love, or at least what we thought love to be, has ever been.

I looked into your eyes and I really considered telling you the truth.
Wouldn't that be a first?
I looked into wanting eyes and I could feel your skin trembling.

I told you that we had always tried to make each other feel numb, a little bit dead inside, just enough to keep us going.

I told you we were both so terrified of feeling more, that we are still so desperate for touch, that we never would have been able to touch each other properly.

I told you that a part of me abhorred you and that a part of you had always felt the same for me.

But the truth is my sweet, I love you in every version of you and me. In every way we thought and still think love to be.