My love can not ever be measured. Whether it be time or space, we are we.
But my conscience seems to tell me: Stop. Give up.
My love is so big, and beyond any type of description. You don’t deserve it. The pain. You are too good. Good men are not privy of my love. Why are you still here?
Why do you haunt my heart? I made you go. I lied and schemed, and yet you are still here! Save yourself. We will not survive this.
Unless you are as broken as me,