Its a difficult feeling,
You still cry over him ever night,
But not because you miss him.

You don't miss all the lies he told,
You miss the way his touch made every hair on your body stand up,
You don't miss all selfish games he played,
You miss how noble and humble he was.

That's the thing about a broken heart,
The moment you come to terms with who he really is,
That's the moment every thing changes,
Once you accept its broken it can begin to heal.