I read words I understand
but do not comprehend.
I feel a fire start in my heart,
course its way down my arms.
I wait until the burn runs
out of my hands.
I am not sad.
But there are tears.
I am not mad.
But my blood runs hot.
I am resentful.
Because now she makes you feel full.
It should be me.
Filling up your head,
and filling up your bed.
I can't take my eyes of the screen,
where your love for her gleams
through that blue light
and that typed status.
I can't help pretend that it's about us.
How it was back then,
how it should be.
I drown myself with the sheets
of my bed before I drown in tears
that don't fall.
Why am I still looking?
Why am I still hoping
that it's all a mistake.
That you'll delete that message
and call me instead of her.
That girl in the status,
that's not me.
That is why I don't comprehend.
Because it shouldn't be her,
it should be me.