sometimes I'm reminded that you live in the little broken parts of me,
and though your love will come and go, that's where you'll always be.

even when you lift your face and it appears you almost care,
to think that you'll stay -- oh I wouldn't dare.

when tempted to compose a text or contemplate a call,
I tell myself that you're a lie and I can't have it all.

still awake late at night and wondering if I'm on your mind,
again and again I repeat, 'love is blind'.

to tell you the truth three years prior is when I let you go,
but whether or not I truly detached is for only me to know.