I’ve written these same words in a thousand ways, and you’ve heard them in a hundred less. I’m at an age when I look back into the seasons of my life and wonder, was I genuinely in love?

Because I don’t know. I don’t know how to not know you.

And then I decide that I was in love once, that I loved you in a manner more wild than all I could understand and try as I did, no twitch could restrain that stallion of emotions. She raced through the grasslands of my sanity and I foolishly followed, enchanted by the darker woods.

It never was me. It was always you. And I gambled my heart on all the right cards, if only you had actually sat down long enough to play the round.

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