Seven months past, and I'm finally fine without feeling your heartbeat against my spine. 

This tormenting ridicule is one of a kind. 

I won't miss that. 

You're looking for company one night at a time. What's done in the dark shows truth in the light.

When the sun comes out I'll see you never were mine.

I won't miss that.

Oh, my logic's twisted. "I never want to hear from you again," I say. I'm a hypocrite when I wish it was you every time my phone rang. "You meant nothing to me, just a moment of insanity." Then why am I searching through your words trying to find some clarity?

I guess I'll never know.

Seven months past, and I'd like to think that I'm fine.