I told you stories shaped like care, Bent the truth to shield your pain, But in the quiet, you could hear The rustle of deceit again. A thousand cuts from words I spared, Each one sharpened by my fear, Thinking lies would make things fair, But losing you with each unclear. I used the drugs, I used the mood, And blamed the storm inside my head, But truth is—I still chose the route, No voice but mine made that bed. Cocaine lit the match, it’s true, And bipolar stoked the flame— But they were tools, not chains or rules, I played the game, and wore your name. I’d swear I’d stop, then fall again, Chasing ghosts in alley smoke, I broke your trust with trembling hands— And every vow became a joke. I see your tears behind the eyes That once looked at me with grace, Now searching through a stranger’s face, Trying to find the man you prized. But even now, when I would flee, You stand like stone, and hold my name, You’ve carried me through every fall— Still loving me, and choosing us the same