Writing this gives life to secrets I've tried to bury
Days of optimism, turned into nights of oppression
My back would slide down the wall as I wept in fetal position
Crying, screaming, myself to sleep
Sunrise would come
Light would burn my eyes
I would get up from the floor in the morning light
Only to find solace and comfort in my bed
Memories of the good times
Assumptions of what went wrong
I held onto your love
Foolishly thinking it would return
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