Once, when I used to love you, I lost myself. Thank you.

I only requested that you lend me the reassurance that you once promised; that you share the words that once ignored your walls.  I asked that you lend me the affection you so quickly took away after our stage of re-acquaintance, so that I may save face when I confessed my conviction and betrayed my own vulnerability for the sake of your attention.

You said I was childish in my ways, and that I became too predictable. Perhaps, I think, it was because I made myself permeable to your lack of efforts.  The only constant became the swings of emotional imbalances that perplexed the discrepancy of our time together...

And yet, I still loved you because when it was good, it was great; though, when it was bad, it was unforgivable.  The skeptic became beguiled by hopeless optimism.

Your words, (all the false and empty promises you made), hurt me quietly - I became blinded to the scars you were forming above the surface of my heart's tissue, unaware of the trail your games were leaving.

Your perpetual disregard haunted my insomnia and I learned to look within my sense of loss.  The emptiness that was gifted me upon your departure had the bitter-sweet taste of time badly spent.  And it has left a permanent disfigurement of jaded visions, though it only hurt temporarily in a clock with no time.

I once used to love you, yes, and it felt mutual.  Though now I know you lied.

But thank you.

Thank you for reminding me of my un-evolved realization that you were my favourite mistake.  My lovely muse, simple and complicated; my play on words.

In the distance of eternity, I will recall your unstable embrace, your irregular displays of affection, and your empty shell of beauty.

Because I once used to love you and that will never change.