What is "happy"?
                                                     Is it love?
                                                                                            Is it material things?
No.
Love cannot be defined.
It is as fluid as water, but as solid as stone.

I thought I loved you.
Secretly, I still do.
If anyone asks, I will always say no.
Always.

I know you don't love me.
I wish you did.
                                                                      But I'm also happy that you don't.

Your "love", is not a genuine love.
                                                  It is a corrupt love.
                                                                                                       A toxic love.

A love that I
don't
need.