Two and a half years I swore I found my half
who made me feel as if there was no worries in the world,
everything he had taken care of.
He seemed to protect me in his arms,
ease me with his kisses and sweet words.
Being with him made me feel safe...safe from any harm.
All the special occasions, Christmas and all, was spent with him,
making sure everything went perfect to meet his happiness,
to make us happy.
Two and a half years later before the two and a half years begun,
alone I am without him...independent.
The arms he contained me in were also being shared with others.
The kisses and the sweet words were sweet nothings and air.
The nights I planned to make sure happiness was met,
was surely met after our meeting with another.
Suspicions I had gathered throughout the years came true.
Evidence provided.
Yet denial was all I got during the period.
Enriched with anger, hurt, and sorrow,
independence has become my only escape.
Locking out those who mean to comfort me,
distrust in all the rest.
I learnt the hard way.
I thought I found love at such a young age.
Instead...two and a half years later I found out it was not love I found,
but a lesson to learn.
A lesson learnt two and a half years later.
