for too many years you’ve traded on my care, and squandered it too, and i said nothing — 
not estopped now, no — but we can’t have this fight anymore –

it’s funny how all these years — after everything that has happened — however painful or difficult or unfair or cowardly — 
i could still love you
because those were only things you’d done in self-preservation, however fruitless –

and i’d love you if you were a murderer a cheat a traitor — because those were things you’d done to yourself, your own integrity — 

but now you’ve done nothing once too often and i no longer wish to love you.