There was a time, back when the mere thought of being on my own, without you by my side, was terrifying. Death seemed pleasant in contrast to that numbing fear.
You were but a mere shadow of what I believed you to be. In agony I would cry your name, but you would never come. You saw through me, and yet refused to see me at all. You would know exactly what was it that I was truly trying to tell, to make you understand, and yet you pretended as if you knew nothing.