You don't love me anymore you said.

When did this realization occur?

Off at camp with every letter I sent?

Not in vain like you think,

because I knew this was going to happen,

I knew before it ever began,

That you, you'd be exhausted,

So tirelessly writing, learning, having new experiences without me.

But that's okay because I knew that I wasn't going to be there with you,

So why would I be on your mind every day,

Especially when your thoughts can fathom nothing but the bed before you.

It wasn't the same for me, my thoughts were seldemly occupied.

I kept telling myself that it would be worth it when you came home,

to see your face, to hear your stories, to hear your voice.

And as long as I was there in the back of your mind at least once everything would be okay.

You didn't see things this way I guess,

Maybe you thought you were hurting me in some way,

Maybe it was yourself.

I wasn't forcing myself to write those letters, 

Thinking of you came easy,

I missed you, yes.

But did it lessen my affections for you?

Quite the contrary actually.

Was it painful that seperation?

Mildly, I missed you,

But I knew I'd see you again.

The weeks turned to days, 

days to hours. 

And you returned.

Even if for a month I knew that the time we'd spend together,

 would mean something more than the seperation.

But soon you'd take your absense again, 

this time you'll be gone for months.

Were you afraid that I couldn't handle it?

Because that should be my choice,

and I was making that choice.

And honestly after the first month I was ready,

I was ready because it'd be so worth it the times you come home.

The stories, your voice, your face. Seeing you.

So why spare me, if I don't  need to be spared?

When did you stop loving me?

Because I still love you, dammit.

And I am still just searching for some reason.