Were we really something special, or was I hoping on too much?
When you said I made your heart skipped a beat, was I just naive?
When I thought I was falling, was I thinking too much?
When I told you I trust you, was I telling too much?
When I let myself fall, was I being too blind?
When you said it wasn’t about me, why did I believed you?
When you purposely pushed me away, why did I still wait?
When you finally said it was me, why did it took so long?
When I called it off, why didn’t you stay?
When I sit here alone at 3 in the morning, I wonder if I ever cross your mind.
When I think about you, I don’t really know what I feel.
When I decide that I should be mad and upset, I then think I shouldn’t have been so harsh.
When I opened up my heart to you, I trusted you to not hurt it with your own hands.
When I look at myself, there’s nothing but disgust.
When I see these cuts, I know how ugly they are.
When I think about how much I miss you, I remember that I’m not the one.
When I think of you, I still have a little hope.