You said you'd always be there for me. You left for other people, for freedom. Maybe to go back to her. I just want to hear you play guitar again and sing to me and feel the breeze from your bedroom window on my face. But you were also full of yourself. Your tragic flaw. That kept me from truly loving you. When I said the words, I could never truly mean it. I don't like admitting that to even myself because honesty is one of my greatest virtues.