If with you there is nothing to gain,
Then you will always be my favourite kind of pain.
They ask me why I still talk to you,
Perhaps it’s because I don't truly believe we're through.
So I book another appointment,
Met with yet another disappointment.
I’d say I believe everyone deserves a second chance,
But so many later I’m not sure I’m worth a second glance.
I wish I could expel the emotions in my heart,
Whilst I remain silent, allowing myself to fall apart.
Why do I do this to myself?
When you’ve already put us on the shelf.
At times I find myself craving your pain,
Even if there is nothing to gain.