I broke my own heart when I wrote poems for you
as if you could hear my thoughts
telepathy of some sort
and what's meant for you will find its way back but you never did
the truth is I'm trying to let go with honey on my hands
and I always thought love was patient
but I'm beginning to resent you for the way you're under my skin
and I tried to get you out of my system
but I stuttered when we said goodbye
because I was never good at knowing when love isn't love anymore