Why I didn't love... Her...

There was a time before love was happy,
a girl before the one who would steal my heart,
a girl who didn't love me for me.
She loved the idea of me, she loved me as an object,
a trophy, to show her friends how perfect I was.
I didn't complain, I was loyal to a fault, at her beck and call,
and yet, they didn't know how unhappy I was.
She didn't want me to sing for her, to talk to her without her approval,
she wanted me to go away when she dismissed me,
to Ignore her when she brought other guys around,
to pretend I didn't see them kissing in secluded corners.
I think the ultimate thing she wanted, above all else,
was to show that I was too loyal to call her out,
that she could cheat at will without consequence,
that she was above all the other girls in power,
in status, for having a long standing relationship of 3 years.
Three years in which I died on the inside.
She let my hate fester that long. to be fair,
I didn't love her in the first place.
I accepted her request because I was too cowardly to refuse,
I thought then that love was something that came after dating.
What she didn't mention was that she had no intention,
none whatsoever, of getting to know me.
She never asked questions about me,
how I felt, what I thought, what I wanted from life.
She made me focus on her. Her, her, her,
to the point where I started to believe it, 
that in a relationship, it was all about one person being happy,
that every instinct was wrong, that I was supposed to make her happy,
like that was the male's role to play.
It was only meeting my true mate that I changed,
that I saw the lie for what It was.
what I felt for her was different from the grueling suffering I knew.
With her, we made each other happy. Unlike the other... person.
My love opened my eyes to how wrong she was. 
How much she would make me, and other men, suffer for her,
bleed for her, dry out for her, until only she remained.
I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't.
Even the bald-faced lie I'd been fed taunted me,
to the point where I couldn't break her,
even as she had systematically broken me.
Even if freedom was one word away.
I wanted to say NO. To her, to her poison, to her life of chains.
But I couldn't. I couldn't break a heart.
If Only I knew then she was heartless.
I... we couldn't be truly happy with her on my mind.
She thought of her often as well,
wondering when I could make the final step,
never pressuring me, never insisting,
but waiting, patiently, for me...
So different, the two of them. 
One mine in heart, another whose heart was stone cold.
Which one was more foolish I did not know.
One for trusting me, or one for betraying me.
And then there was one.
And the world ended.
And she left me forever.