Why does love always feel like a battlefield?
To be fair, it doesn't always feel like that.
Sometimes it goes right, but often it feels I do it wrong.
Should it be easy? Should I have to fight it? Fight for it?
I make mistakes, I've made mistakes, I'm making mistakes
Every once in a while, I feel right, it felt right, I'm feeling good.
Are those moments worth the times when it doesn't feel right?
Are you even aware of what you made me feel?
But that's not fair, because you didn't really do anything
Except be you.
And it doesn't matter that you don't believe me
It doesn't matter that I was believed to be disingenuous
I asked for this battle, because apparently I don't like anything to be simple
Difficult is good; difficult is safe Because if I fail, it's not my fault
At least not entirely.
Where's the challenge in accomplishing the possible?
I listen to that song and it reminds me of you
I remember how we laughed, or how I cried
When I realized I had hurt you.
To realize I could do that was a realization I didn't like, I didn't want.
I wanted to forget I could do that or how to do that, but maybe not,
Because then I would know how to not do it, right?
I cut myself off from that feeling and couldn't believe I could be that person,
but it seems obvious now that I was.
And how wrong I was; and how it didn't matter if you had hurt me, too, my justification for it,
My reason for being so mean, when I never wanted to be, though I was hurt.
It seems I was mean right back, though spite is never solved or answered by more of the same.
I am sorry, but it doesn't matter: the world has moved on and so have we.
I can resolve to be a better person going forward and not lash out with angry words again.
I can promise to act with honor (and honor myself, too), act with patience,
and communicate with reasonable reason tempered with a modicum of passion,
While still burning when I need to, want to, have to...
And maybe next time the process will go a little smoother.
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