I know my shattered heart better than you do.
I know that one day, it’ll heal and I’ll be better and maybe then I’ll be fine.
but not tonight, or tomorrow or now.

don’t tell me I’m fine,
because no amount of cookie butter ice cream will fix this.
no amount of super glue will bind the broken pieces of my heart together
no amount of anaesthesia can mask the hurt.

don’t tell me I’m fine,
you’ll break my heart further, and further,
pulverise it ‘till it’s gone
and leave me wondering if the pleasure was worth the pain.

don’t tell me I’m fine,
the bags under my eyes will say otherwise,
the thin line of my smile will betray that,
and the dull sheen of my eyes will tell the lies.

don’t tell me I’m fine,
when all the nights I spent waking and thinking of you still happen,
when I forget the songs I used to love because of you,
when I still dream of you and wake up with tear-soaked pillows.

don’t tell me I’m fine,

because when I see you happy it makes it worthwhile
and it makes me realise what happened to me–
the life went out of me when you went into mine

don’t tell me I’m fine,
I’m more than a used lifeline,
I’m more than a sugarcoated line,
I’m more than the girl you left me behind.

don’t tell me I’m fine,

because I know I’m not.
because I know you’re not.

because I know we’re not.