Loving you wasn't easy.
Loving you wasn't sunshine and rainbows.
Loving you was an illness.
Even when you left it stuck with me.
People told me that with time it could be cured.
Like this wasn't terminal.
Love. Is. Terminal.
My love for you is and always was terminal, we were supposed to be in it for the long run but in the end I was left to suffer alone.
I met more people.
Possible cures and antidotes.
They helped.
Some days the antidotes kicked in harder and the illness was weaker or even barely there.
But once they left it all came back.
The illness will never leave me.
You left me with a curse so that you could find your blessing.
