The last time we met, we gave the worst goodbyes.
I told you terrible things and watched hatred grow in your eyes.
When I began to make amends you were out of reach,
I began to panic, a connection I beseech.

Untimely was your death, unruly were my words.
After so much time, who would've known it would still hurt?

I don't believe in Heaven, but did you die at peace?
Forever will I live my life, asking "Kim, do you still hate me?"