I loved you once. Truly, madly, deeply. With passion and with hatred sometimes. In an unhealthy way. It was painful.
I loved you once, and now I struggle to recall the wrinkles around your eyes. I can’t remember what your hand looks like, your smell, the touch of your skin, or how your voice sounds. You are only a faded picture in my head. In black and white. And a sad smile.
I loved you once, and it was the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me and the unhappiest time of my life as well. You lifted me up so high I have never imagined I could be and threw me down so deep I thought I would never be able to come back.
I loved you once, and I know you did too. I wish you had recognized that then. I wish I had understood you then.
I loved you once, and you drove me crazy.
I loved you once, but I hated the way you made me feel.
I loved you once, but I loathed the person I’ve become.
I loved being us, but I forgot how to be me.
I loved you once and everything we did together, but I recognized myself less and less when I looked in the mirror.
When did it happen? Where have things gone wrong? Have they gone wrong, or were we just not right for each other?
I loved you once more than I ever loved anyone, and I never expected this feeling to go away. I never imagined that all this could disappear one day. And yet it did. It died. Without a trace. And now I can only try to remember how it felt.
I loved you once, and it still makes me warm inside when I think of you, but the butterflies are long gone. So is the smile.
I loved you once, and you despised me for that, how could you?
I loved you once, did you? Or at least, did you want to?
What is love anyway? Maybe our definitions were not the same. It’s not your fault, I know. And it’s not mine either. Whatever it was – you and me –, it was the purest form of it. Rare and real.
I loved you once, and I’m glad it happened, but I’m happy that it happened just this once.
I loved you once, and a lifetime is just not enough to forget that.
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