He asked me, was it real?

was it? I thought to myself as I walked away

I thought of how any of the relationships I had prior moved me to poetry, to a short story

and this never did

so was it real?

Were the times I said I love you, and it moved me to tears ever real?

or did I say it just enough to convince myself that I loved him and that meant I deserved the love too?

so maybe it was real

just too real,

Like a mirror right in my face

showing me all the scars I never wanted to see

all the wounds that were yet to heal

No butterflies in my stomach

just a pill too hard to swallow

plain old real

too real to even think of word play