It was all a lie.

The words you said, the way you touched, the feeling you felt.

It was all a lie.

I was merely an outlet to your loneliness. I was merely a push to get you on your feet again.

Although I say I'm fine, because I should be, it's as follows:

I won't be fine after each time this happens.

I won't be perfectly decent after the same shit that's happened.

I'm sensitive. I have problems. I am not mentally okay. I have anxiety.

Excuses, excuses.

I can say this though, I will be okay.

I may not be now, I may not be later, but I will be okay.

As long as I have what I need I'll be okay.

Okay is the word you use when you can't find a middle ground besides your decency.

Okay is the relief.

Okay is the hope.

Okay is the cry.

Okay isn't the lie.

You say you want make sure I'm telling the truth, well here it is.

I'd rather take the walk off the cliff than be the cliff to watch you walk.

I'd rather be the glass that's shattered than shatter you.

I'd rather feel the breath leave me than have the breath leave you.

I'd rather tie the knot than watch you tie it from my branches.

I may be hurt, even if it wasn't long, it's not like you did anything wrong, but I'll be hurt because I'm sensitive.

I'm hurt because all that you said was a lie to make me happy.

Was it really to make me happy when it was just words that were empty?

A lie.