They warned me you were no angel,

but then again who is?

You were my imperfectly perfect fugitive,

stealing me piece by piece.

I began risking everything for a foolish love.

On the road to self-destruction,

I was wide-eyed and mesmerized,

fascinated with the thought of you-

with the thought of we.

 

I never imagined love as a killing machine,

but there you were holding the smoking gun,

with the words "Because I love you" still hanging off your tongue.

I believed you could free me from myself,

but what I needed freeing from-

was you.

 

It was a selfish kind of love;

you telling me 

to find new friends,

to get a new job,

to join a gym,

to give all my time to you,

while you were giving your all 

to someone new.

 

You wore me like an old torn-up t-shirt

I was reckless

you were rare

but so is love;

it's a kind of purgatory

capturing us between a state of melancholy and euphoria.

 

Some days when I think back on us,

I ask myself why I left you,

I look in the mirror and say it was, "Because I love you."

But is that true?

Or was I trying to save myself from the nightmare staring back at me?

 

I had forgotten how beautiful the world was,

as I was surrounded by your darkness.

I now find beauty in the marks you left behind.

They show me where I've been

and keep me on the path to were I'm going.

They remind me our "love" was not love at all

rather,

a repulsive delusion.

 

When He tells me He loves me, I'll say

"yeah, I love you too"

But who I really love is still

You.

 

Because I was your "Babygirl",

your "ride or die"

the one who always believed in you

even when you lied.

 

You are the ball and chain at my ankle.

I am your prisoner,

with only hopes of being set free.

For our love is not love at all,

just me being a fool.

A fool for all to see.