i hurt myself over and over reading and rereading and creating words that made me think of you.
you,
the one who stayed by my side.
you,
the one who held my hand.
you,
the one who i'm ready,
finally ready,
to let go of.
you were my muse.
i wore you down in my mind until there were no other words to describe what happened between us.
the pain was replaced with inner pain but it was better than reliving us and ending my poems with "i love you".