I Meant It Too

I meant it too.

I swear I did.

But the thing is, I loved you.

I saw you there, broken, and I saw you.

I saw you as you.

I wanted to help you, and in the process, I fell for you.

You say you loved me.

But I think you confused love for lust.

I swear I meant it.

I tried, I really did.

I was nice and wanted to be with you.

But you did things.

You did things to me.

I won't ever be the same you know.

Not really.

You said being with me made you happy.

And I guess it did.

But not the kind of happiness one should feel.

Here you are still.

Saying how you love me.

How we were happy together.

How can you say that?

Why would you say that?

Who would you say that to?

Everyone who isn't me, apparently.

I'm glad I have the happy memories with you.

It's just a shame that the bad memories outweigh them.

I don't mean to be mean.

But typically, I don't regret anything in life.

But I regret you.

You need help.

And I can't help you.

I wish I can.

But I just can't.