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Excuses
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.
