You left me there to bleed in the streets.
You wanted the landing, but you never took the leap.
It's funny how things turn out, it's funny to look back and see the people we met, kept, left.
In the depths of your heart, I know I'm not there.
I know I'm not there, for you to care would be simply too much to ask for.
I wanted you to want me, but how could you?
I didn't even want myself.
I let you inside my body, you trashed it likeit was a frat house party, but not nearly as much trashing and thrashing went on than what occurred in my brain when you left.
The promise that wasn't kept, I knew it all along, being wrong is what I'm good at, what I succeed in, what I do best.
The dress I wore when we first met was the same dress I wore when you left.
For good, as it should be, you can't love me.
I'm not even sure you can love yourself.
Same boat, same missing paddle, same monstrous river to fly down to.
I hate you, feel sorry for you, could kiss you.
Stupid leftover girl emotions, I know, time to grow?
Not sure if I'm able, or quite frankly stable, the label they put on me when you left, before we even began.
Slut, mistress, home-wrecker, wench.
You were suppose to protect me from all of it this time, but you didn't, you simply left, on to the next.
So perplexed am I, that you could be so vexed and blind.
Missing each point I pointed out to you.
Running off with her, the girl you deserve, I suppose, such a wide nose.
No matter, you left.
I'm in too much depth with these sugarcoated memories, of deceitful, harmony.