I think about moving on, but you taught me how to hold onto good things, and you told me about fighting the good fight.
So do I fight for you? Or has this become a battle that can only end in tears? You taught me so much, and then you simply left, as if what we were, everything we experienced were merely dust in the wind.
I can deal with the pain. Pain and me are constant companions, old drinking buddies. It's the hurt of confusion that gets me. Like why,... why would you do this to me? It's hard when it was so ambiguous. What you said. The things you did. And now confusion reigns in me because I didn't know. Maybe I should have.