Antiquated With Doubt Poem by Liz Bitelove

</>Did you perceive me to be antiquated with doubt. In the many years lapsed I found out that love is never a word but a deed. Why for so many years did I plead just to find that you had intentions to mislead. You thought I was the lover of your soul, never the love of your life or your wife. What was I to you from beginning to end. Just a good ol' friend? a friend with benefits. a friend of forget me ness. Why 2 or 5 and 8 years turns out but nothing of swallowed tears and the fears of not knowing how great or big of a mistake we could have been?