He asked.

“But why do you only write about one person?”
He asked.
And I answered,
“I write about the sorrows of life. And He is my sorrow.”
This moment was when I realized
That you were toxic to me.
And I loved every poisoned minute
As you sent me spiraling into despair.
I found happiness through my misery,
Through my pain, with you, I
Was able to laugh.

“Is he that important?”
He asked.
And I answered yes,
Because You are.
If only he had asked me if I loved you. I
would have to bitterly answer yes
As he followed with “Does he love you?”
And I would merely give a sigh
to serve as my answer.

He asked.

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