Lying alone, at night, I have to admit how much I miss you
. I have to admit that, despite all my protests
, I would probably be back with you in a split second, given the opportunity. Hell, I don't even know if you believe that I loved you
. I probably always will love
you. It just doesn't go away, no matter how much I want it to.
I think that I'm starting to remember it as better than it was. I know I am. Maybe it's just that you're not here, that you're more of a memory than a reality to me now.
Maybe I'm in love with a rose-colored-glasses memory of the real you.
Maybe that's ok.