Staring at a blank paper trying to find the correct words to explain what you did, but there's no justification, you're in the wrong.
I don't understand how someone can show you their scars, inside and out, and you still have the audacity to rip them open again, especially  because you had to hold your breath when she swallowed her pride and whispered to you why she would drag that blade across her skin in the first place.

I don't understand how she can literally cry on your shoulder after dropping her clothes for you when you know how hard it is to look at herself in the mirror even when she's alone In her own bathroom, and you make her feel not good enough.

I don't understand how she can look into your eyes and be wondering why she couldn't recall that golden green color when you asked her if she actually loved you, and you're looking into her broken eyes pretending you love her when you know what you've done.