I've been seeing you for awhile.

How long, I don't know.

It's been that long.

All the time we spent together never made us think of one thing:

How perfect we must be for each other.

But though that may be true,

I've noticed us making excuses.

And half-truths.

Rather, whole lies.

I don't want that.

That's a flaw in our relationship.

That's wrong.

I don't want to make excuses to see you.

Or call you.

Or write letters to you.

And most of all,

I don't want to make excuses to love you.

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