I have never loved a man, the way that I loved you. Yet now I doubt it all, the chemistry, the laughter, the closeness, the intimacy, the care we took of each other, all of the times that were precious to me, the kiss on the bridge, dancing with you in my living room, the ferry rides, watching movies together, going for walks, just laying together and talking, holding each other, and so much more.
Now I doubt it all. Was that not love?
How could it be, for you to walk away so easily. How could it be love if only one wants to stay together. How could it be love, if only one believes that everything we had together was unique, so special, and so incredible. How could it be love, if only one woke each day, with a feeling of joy, excitement, anticipation, and incredible luck, to have found the other.
How could it be love, if only one soul feels that they have met their mate.
How could it be love?
It must have been a fantasy, a fragment of my imagination. It must not have been as I thought. If it was, if it was this incredible love, that so few are lucky enough to find, how could you leave?
It must not have been. It must not have been love.