I often wonder if you know me to be something of your imagination. You’re allowed to feel things and express them without fear. I’m just realizing I don’t get the same pleasures. The good times are seldom in between fights and arguments. Your bravado no longer has a hold on me. I think it’s a good idea to ask the question, why are we together? We have been in a long tango of right and wrong for years. Is it truly wrong of me to want to choose peace or a false sense of love? Do you even know what love is? Your actions prove to me you don’t. Unreliability should be your first, second and third name. I haven’t been a priority in your life for a long time. I’m second guessing myself because for all the hatred in my heart love conquers. Sweet words and a soft touch has been my guilty pleasure. Great sex and overbearing climaxes. Laughter and love, but is it truly love? I refuse to subject myself to what ifs anymore.