In December you told me I was beautiful.
It was the first time I ever heard those words spoken towards me,
I felt loved, wanted.

In January you committed suicide.
I didn't find out until a few days later,
I felt empty, heart broken.

In August I met someone else.
You'd been gone seven months.
He called me beautiful,
It was the second time I ever heard those words spoken towards me,
I told him about you, he told me that I shouldn't feel cursed.

In September was when he last spoke to me.
I thought I finally found someone to talk to, he was the only person I told,
I felt cursed, unloved.