In My Head
And I had not washed you off me, not just yet. Maybe to hold on, just for one second more or a thousand. For the years spent were not wasted. The memories still sweet. Though a heartache is left, a breaking to endure, as it should- as it always is, when you find yourself in this space again. To heal is to break. To break is to have loved. But if you find yourself in hate:
Hate is just love, coming out the wrong way. And so- I must have loved you then.