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the art of smiling.
I met,
 I secretly wrote your name in the corners of my notebook,
 I doodled hearts with our initials in them on my tests.
 
 I spoke,
 I imagined you saying the sweetest things back to me,
 I dreamed of the different shapes your lips made when you laughed.
 
 I admitted,
 I began wondering if you were just like every other boy,
 I started down the long road of convincing myself you weren’t.
 
 I dated,
 I finally got to feel the rough touch of your hand on my palms,
 I fell down and watched you grin as you pulled me back up.
 
 I kissed,
 I declared to everyone in my head that you were mine forever,
 I told you that I didn’t want to let you go.
 
 I loved,
 I gave you everything I ever had,
 I let you take what you wanted because you I knew you’d give it back.
 
 I held,
 I adored as I studied your eyelashes fluttering while you slept beside me,
 I gripped the strong muscles in your arm as you tensed in frustration.
 
 I watched,
 I gradually saw you evolve into someone I didn’t even know,
 I steadily held on as you pulled away.
 
 I believed,
 I convinced me, myself, and I that you were telling the truth,
 I repetitively scolded myself for planting the seed of doubt in my mind.
 
 I slept,
 I pressed the auto-pilot button and continued living that way,
 I never considered this as your fault.
 
 I dreamed,
 I remembered the days of smiles and of happiness,
 I missed the hunch of your shoulders when you tried not to laugh at me.
 
 I wondered,
 I thought things like if I kept of doing this, I’d never feel that way again.
 I tried to tell myself again that you really did love me, that’s why you stayed.
 
 I pretended,
 I acted as though I was just fine,
 I allowed everyone to just smile, wave, maybe say hello; walk away.
 
 I realized,
 I wanted you to be happy, no matter what.
 I needed you to decide if being happy meant being with me.
 
 I asked,
 I questioned your love again,
 I begged you to go.
 
 I woke up.
 I loved you enough to say goodbye first.
 
 I am happy.

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