EPOH

I hope it wasn't you. 

I hope it wasn't you who kept being there every time I needed someone to talk to. 

I hope it wasn't you who called me when I was at the lowest point just to hear me crying to 3 hours long. 

I hope it wasn't you who kept checking up on me just to made sure if anything happened. 

I hope it wasn't you who made me believe in myself. 

I hope it wasn't you who yelled to my face, screaming of how beautiful and worthy and incredible and unique and amazing, and how stupid I am for not realizing it, everytime I degrade my self-worth.

I hope it was just her and not you, so I didn't have to question myself, "How could I not have these kind of abstract feelings for you?" because you're simply dangerous, that you knew there's something wrong even if I didn't say any words, that you always had the nicest words to say, that you touched me without even using your hands.

You gave me the kind of feeling that every single writer has no words to explain and I can't talk to you without even think of how I wish I could go back to when my heart had not been touched by your words.

I've been hiding this for too long–someday I'll tell you that you're one of my best-est person and maybe I'll need you to know it's a lie–I hope you're not seeing this now.