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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