The truth is... I don't think I ever loved him. I think I loved the idea of him. Hardened. Gravely. Smart.
The truth is... I reveled in the thought of grabbing his attention. We both caroused in all dark things. Poetry. Black leather. Coffee. Cigarettes. And not giving a fuck.
The truth is... We met in back seats. One word answers. Or witty banter. No walks home. No good morning texts.
The truth is... We were both broken. Shielding ourselves through booze and sex. Believing with all our might that we were invincible now. You can't hurt what's already dead.
The truth is... There were no rules. No restrictions. We lived separate lives. With the same friends. No jealousy. No labels.
The truth is... One day it stopped. No climax. No downfall. Just done.
The truth is... We weren't invisible. We were jealous. We did give a fuck. We were in the dark but needed light. Broken but worth fixing.
The truth is... We were lying.