I wonder how you do it, the callousness and flippancy.
Breaking my heart in one fluid move and crossing over to someone else.
Do you love her? Is she a toy like I was?
A passing fancy for a day, a discarded rag the next.
I wracked my mind in search of a clue, that you loved me a little.
It's hard to watch her cry the same over you.
To roll herself in a ball of agony am comfortable enough to call home.
Beating up herself with thoughts that she wasn't enough,
That somehow she is flawed.
I know you're the broken one,
You try to *** your cracks with broken pieces of us.
It's not enough, it never is.
I shudder to think that others will know this pain.
And yet if you came by and asked me to come back,
I would leap like the flick of a guilty pleasure into your arms.