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It was easy to find him again, even easier to fall back.

It felt so good, meeting him once more.
He smiled and we promised,
never to leave each other ever again.

I cried a lot, thinking I had won him back,
or maybe myself back.

But somewhere along the way,
my wounds had grown selfish.

I no longer wanted to try.
I just wanted to know:
did he love me enough?
more than I had ever loved him?

There was a choice
to heal what we carried,
or to honor what we had.

But I chose the road
that tore everything apart.

I turned us into a measure,
into a give and take,
a game of bets and payoffs.

I loved him,
only to see if he would love me more.

It was when it felt like he couldn’t,
or wouldn’t, that I made my vows.

I promised to abandon him first.
I promised to forget him.
I promised, this time,
to try and hate him.

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