I loved you.
Like a little kid loves the scent of their mother's perfume,
the same familiar smell that screams "it will be alright" whenever it comes upon your gentle face.
whenever something feels wrong.
yes, I loved you that much.

But love is blind,
it's mom coming home late, after a night out.
Late at work, she said.
But you aren't blind, you can see the lines on her forehead creasing deeper than daylight,
Love must be deaf too because you choose to ignore how loud she's talking and believe her.
Love may be blind, but it asks you to look past things sometimes.

Love likes to act hurtfully at times.
You can read it a bedtime story and it will scream that it's not tired.
Love is stubborn like that.
You can give love your all and get nothing in return.
Life is unfair like that.

Love can't always be there for you.
Eventually, you'll have to open up and be on your own.
You'll have to make your own, new love.
I loved you.
But now I have to move on.
Now I have to make my own new love.