I always knew it wasn't love.
At least what you felt toward me wasn't
What I felt was love.
I was real.
Maybe I am just a selfish child.
I wanted a boyfriend.
You were more than willing to have the part.
I let you hold me and I thought...
I thought I knew what was happening.
I thought I was experiencing the greatest feelings possible.
The notorious romance was flying all around me and I wanted it.
Am I a tramp?
Am I a liar?
Am I an idiot?
Am I a demon?
Am I a thief?
Am I a heatrbreaker?
I've broken my own heart, I guess that counts.
I told you not to wait in a half-assed kind of attempt to
do the right thing.
In reality I hoped I could hide forever.
You'll forget about me and I don't get to forget.
My love thrives differently.
My pain burns differently.
My pain boils forever and always because I am a girl.
A girl never really forgets.
So I write about it,
trying to drown my memories with lexical intoxication
I am not so special.
I'm just like every other
No. I'm not so special.