You painted my world with words
Words of happiness, love, heartaches
Words of heartaches, pain, tears
An art of nothingness and of played hearts
An almost art turned into ashes
Ashes turned into nothing
Nothing into a nonexistent word

If only that word bloomed into life
Maybe our story could have been printed
Somehow I hoped it would last
But it didn't even had a chance to start
And there are poems I made for you
Yet because of you
I wish this will be the last

You've always made me feel important
I never learned anything at all
'Cause like a star that became a black hole
I felt sorry for myself
I became an empty space
I am sorry
For I loved you...       on my own

I know I still do
But this madness has to end
I shouldn't be involved with you anymore
You who carelessly handled my heart
Made me feel like a Prada on sale;
Without a second thought, you pushed me away
Guarding your own heart but mine.

For always being there for you,
For making you feel special,
For being so annoying and frustrating,
For wanting to be with you always,
For starting those conversations,
For the late night texts I put you through,
I am sorry.

For singing you a lullaby at night,
For loving your voice over the phone,
For loving you;
For loving you more than I love myself,
For my eyes now filled with sadness,
I am so sorry for myself.
This is the last time I'll write about you.
This is the last piece I've ever written for you.