I knew that even when I told them that I didn't love him anymore, that it was a lie.
Even if I said that it didn't matter anymore, I didn't care...it was a lie.
No matter how true I wanted it to be.
He was someone that I'd always love.
Someone I'd always care about.
And think of.
For some reason he was a person that I always loved.
For some reason he didn't understand.
For some reason he didn't seem like he wanted to.
I knew that just like me, all he wanted was for it to be over.
They say that you can't love someone you don't know.
And he says that I don't know him.
But what does it matter to know a person if understand them.
I loved him the way a cigarette loves a flame.
Which left me as a used up filter, and a pile of ashes, on a tray made of clay.
He was my first love and thanks to him I don't think I can ever really love again.
Because even though they were feelings he wouldn't receive, feelings he wouldn't accept.
They were regardless feelings for him. Strong and bold.
That being said it porabably would have been best for him to never know.
Flames like this deserve to die but for some reason they're stubborn and strong.