Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But what if you had never fooled me at all? Oh, how you would sneer at that. Me, too trusting, too ready to take things at their face-value, able to do something no other could boast of: read you as if you were an open book. No, I never did like to read. Mayhap that is where I went wrong; but you were always the exception. My exception. I willingly climbed into your web of deceit, nestled myself amongst the shimmering strands that possessed too much strength to be true. You were always strong, and over time, the one thing we have too much of, your lies followed suit. I stayed silent, when you thought I was but too blind to see. I saw everything. Even the things you wished to keep from me. No, I am not stupid, but I hurt, and I will continue to hurt so long as you continue draw breath… For lies spill from your mouth as easily as air fills your lungs. I will never love your lies, but I will always love you. Once I told myself I hated the pain you wrought. But, as time passes and nothing changes, I have been forced to recognize the opposite. I am addicted to it. You are right, I am a fool. But you— You, too, are a fool if you think me capable of the same falsehoods. The only one I ever weaved on my own, with clumsy fingers and the best of intent, was this:
you return my love.