If I was the colour of doubt could you make me beautiful?

I tried to make everything seem like it was okay, but without you I didn’t really have anyone.

I attached myself to you in such a way that you were my oxygen and I found it difficult to breathe when you weren’t close enough to make me feel alive. 
I didn’t even notice it, this empty body without the heart it unconsciously gave away. Damn it. And damn you.

You had such affection which you wanted me to mirror, but my mirror had fractured into quantities that even I couldn’t count. And yet you wanted me to count the stars.
I found it hard to reflect overwhelming emotions in fear that the original would only be the setting-up of a raw duplicate. 

I wanted you. But had no justification to why that was so. Your features, your body did not appeal to me - and neither did your kisses.
But still you were always there, so I was never really away from you.

You made me a part of you without my consent, so I never had an option of tearing myself away from you without leaving a part of me behind. And the part you took was the part I needed most.
I guess our being together is the successful result of persistence and persuasion – with just a dash of validity (the way I remember it.)

For a beginning that was based on gambles and lies isn’t it beautiful that we've come this far? Or just plain pathetic.

Like an arranged marriage –but it worked. And now I can’t think of being with anyone else but you. Like a product I am loyal to, you have marketed yourself well. 
You tell me your dreams about travelling around this dying sphere with solid expressions of your irises – and your fears about returning to find me in the embrace of another.

How can you lack confidence in my loyalty when it was always you who pushed the limits of this love-illusion? Did you feel satisfaction when your impacts were big enough to make the – no my, sky fall? Or just consequently master the art of ignorance every time I needed you.

I guess what I'm trying to say is I was never in it for a happily ever after – but now the pathway that stretches through time already has your footprints on it, and I begin to doubt my cleaning ability.

I need you to push me away – but you’re too selfish for that. Staying has become my weakness, my defeat. And soon it will hurt more than leaving ever could.

I love you.