My haste was no insult;
I was dying under another gun.
Oh, I would have crumbled once.
I floated you in an ocean of love,
but you saw it differently and sailed on.
I gave everything I owned and wanted to be
but it wasn't enough to earn your loyalty
or stem your careless self-destruction.
You said I would never find love,
that I would die alone and miserable.
Mister, you don't get to write my life.
My life is a gift I gave to myself,
an open-book test where I see the choices,
and they lead to peace in every step.
My leaving was the thing that saved me.
So let me be and don't judge me.
Don't follow me now with your hooks and barbs.
I loved you once and that should be enough.
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