His hands don't hurt me anymore, which is why he chooses his words more carefully
Each word melds into a knife that stabs my spine, making me shiver
He doesn't have to say he loves me and he doesn't say it either
But every word hurts me
It doesn't matter if its good or bad; his love hurts and not getting his love hurts
So when he says I miss you, my spine shudders because it should be true
But it isn't