He told me I was beautiful, and that I made him smile, and I wanted him.
He told me I was christmas on a snowy, peaceful day, and I loved him.
He told me I was perfect in every way, and I believed him.
He told me I deserved better than he was, and I ignored him.
He showed me the world, both tangible and not, and I adored him.
He worote me songs, and played them for me on the roof of his car under moonless starry nights, and I worshipped him.
He whispered secrets and murmered poems into my ear, and I wanted him even more.
He told me we would run away together, forget the worries of youth and circumstance, to build a world of passion in a nameless place unknown, and I followed him.
Away from security, away from love, away from all I had ever known, I followed him.
He told me he would take care of me, and I naively listened.
He left me alone, far from home, and I began to see how much I despised him.
I never saw his face again.
And now, oh how I hate him.