As much as we were open with our thoughts, he still chose to be silent.
As much as I told him he could talk, he still chose to be quiet.
As much as we talked, he still chose to be private.
The first thing he could never tell me was how much he was hurting.
He needed a friend, a person, someone to tell him it was okay; but, me, I wasn't there for him.
He didn't want to tell me he was feeling lonely, or lost.
He didn't want to tell me he needed a shoulder to cry on.
He was hurting and I was blind.
Two, he never told me what it was like when I wasn't there.
He didn't tell me the fighting, the arguing, the screaming that happened when I wasn't around.
He wanted to protect me.
He needed to protect me.
Three, he didn't want to tell me he was afraid.
He didn't want me to know how fearful he was to lose me.
I was his person, his best friend.
I was the only thing he thought about day and night.
As much as I listened, I chose not to be better.
As much as I talked, I chose to be loud.
As much as we loved each other, I chose to end it.