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I Admit

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It hurts, I admit,
all the minutes, I spent,
in your arms,
but it was never enough,
it’s never enough.
I wanted more.
For that reason, I guess I was selfish.
It hurts, I admit,
being wrapped up in your arms,
our tired minds gently falling asleep,
where dreams would take over reality,
until we awaken, in each other’s arms.
The memory still so fresh, still so colorful,
in the back, of my mind.

It pains me, I admit,
being forced to forget
what could have been,
but never was.
Your face, which I studied so thoroughly,
pushed back to the dark corners of my mind.
Your memory, I’m forced to repress.
Easier said than done.
Easier wanted than needed.

I hate this, I admit.
You’re the one who made me fall for you,
only to go away days later.
I know, it’s not your fault,
but it still hurts nonetheless;
I still hate this nonetheless.
Someday, you will be back,
I know that,
but it’s a matter of when,
and how long I’m capable of waiting.
I won’t wait forever,
And that’s why this is goodbye.

It hurts, I admit,
to give up
before it’s begun.
To let go
when there was nothing I clung onto.
To forget
all the memories that have yet to begin.





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