I hate that I am still in love with you.
I wish that I could just move on.
But there is something about you,
About the way you make me feel,
About the way you look at me,
About the way you smile at me,
About the things we speak of,
About the way you hold my hand,
About the way you kiss my lips,
About the way you hug me...
There is something about you,
About the way you lie,
About the way you go behind my back,
About the way you keep secrets,
About the way you still want him,
About the lack of respect you have for me,
About the way you use me,
About the hurtful things you do.
And people are constantly calling me crazy for loving you still.
Because they can see the tiredness in my eyes.
They can hear the pain in my voice.
Why do I do this to myself?
