He lived for me. And I was liking that. 

I was loving it. 

But then eventually I was not anymore.  

But he kept on living for me.  

He was willing to give up everything for me - his personal growth, his career, his lifestyle, his friends.  

He was living for me  

while I only with him. 

It was a fleeting happiness that I was getting.  

Maybe he got that too, unknowingly. 

But in between those fleeting moments, I loved him.  

I loved him so dearly.  

I loved him with all my heart,  

all my rational soul can take. 

I loved him and gave him the sincerest care and protection beyond what was humanly possible for me to give. 

The love was real.  

The love was exceptional.  

I knew his for me was real as well. 

But the love turned out to be not pure,  

For he was not living the life he wanted; 

While I, I allowed him to live like that. 

Ours was a love that was overwhelming..  

Too overwhelming, that is 

- his to me was too free  

while mine to him was too strict. 

But there was love.  

Pure blissful love. 

But sometimes.. Love is not enough.  

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