It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.
It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds.
For there to be betrayal, there would have had to been trust first.