It pains me to see
That you're doing just fine
I crave your fingers
Running down my spine

I crave your taste
Your touch and your lips
The way it felt
With your hands on my hips

But you're okay
You're doing fine without me
You only crave
To finally be set free

Let's try to ignore the fact
That all this time
You have "loved" me
And "loved" another
Behind my back
Because you already seem to be
Very good at that

When a pen's point touches paper,
The ink spreads out,
The page bends around your words,
As you mark the page forever.
With computers, every word is written,
Removed,
And rewritten.
With a tap you can delete
Your words,
Your mistakes,
Your regrets,
Everything.
But you can never take back ink.
The drop can never go back into the pen.
The paper will never again be white
Or perfectly smooth again.
You can't delete pen.