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.