It's not that I don't like you.

It's just that the last boy I kissed left a bitter taste on my lips and I can't seem to get it off.

It's not that I don't like you.

it's just that I swear to god I can feel his hands on my hips while yours barely make an indent.

It's not that I don't like you.

It's just that he made confetti out of my heart and I've convinced myself I'm not worthy of the help you're willing to offer.

It's not that I don't like you, it's just that I can still taste him and nothing else seems to matter.