I still love you so much,
Even after all the pain
You brought to my doorstep.

But I could never admit it,
So I began lying when you asked
If I still felt something for you.

And when you asked if I was okay,
I would sternly say "I'm perfectly fine",
And that I was happy you had moved on.

Sometimes I would even mention
Some fake new love I'd wildly invented
And all the fake love I felt for her.

But the lies were actually for me,
Because with them I could pretend
I was happy and didn't need you.

They helped me live a life I wasn't living.
A futile life with you, without you:
*The idyllic life.