I often think I never loved you.
I was just a dumb kid after all.
What fifteen year old understands love?
I think I just felt comfortable with you.
My lips had never touched another's.
My arms were use to your embrace.
Your family had welcomed me as their own.
I didn't know how I could break away from it.
Even as you hurt me,
and left me crying countless times,
I couldn't take the steps to get away from you.
The thought of leaving you plagued me.
What would it be like to smell your cologne,
and to recognize it as just another scent.
Nothing special.
Or to walk the halls of our school,
without you holding my hand.
You see,
I don't think I loved you.
I was just afraid of being alone.
I was use to you.
You were just there.
You were just familiar.