I love you but I left you,
so why don’t I feel at all?
Why do I still wish it’s you
on the other end of the telephone call?
You won’t be calling
just to ask about my day,
or to speak those three words
that I’m unsure I want to hear you say.
If I wanted to leave,
why should I even care
about the space between your open arms
and who will next be there?
I feel absolutely nothing,
no hope or love or fear,
and no matter if I want or not,
I cannot shed a single tear.

But all those things you said to me,
out of anger and sheer spite
still pierce me hard every time
I think about our constant fights.
You’d always try to take them back,
those hurtful things you said,
but they were etched in my memory,
on repeat in my head.
I felt like all you wanted
lay beneath my clothes,
and you tried to get at your desire,
no matter how much I’d oppose.
And here my internal struggle lies,
a failure whatever I may choose,
cuz if I take you back I’m worried
of what, this time, I’ll lose.