Honey, I can differentiate love from dissembling.
And if this manipulation is what you call love,
I’m afraid you really don’t know what love is.
The sad thing is that I’ve wasted my love on you.
Your love is fictitious as the script of a romantic drama.
When I’m with you it’s like having a nightmare.
You say you’re concerned about my eudemonia,
But you make my world boring and uncomfortable.
Lately I’ve felt battered and abused psychologically.
I won’t trust you with my vulnerability again.
You walked out on me and now you come back begging,
I’d be a fool if I forgive you and take you back.
I don’t feel your affection when you touch me,
I feel that I’m being taken advantage of and used.
You display such intolerance and selfishness.
And I can tell when you’re not speaking the truth.
How can you love me and discourage my ambition?
We altercate and have pointless conversations,
Yet you tell me nobody loves me the way you do.
Well, honey, I’m telling you seriously, this isn’t love.