I've developed a bad habit
Of biting my lips until the skin won't tear
Which I never did when you were around
Because you always liked them perfectly glossed
I don't fall asleep with my phone near my ear now
But apparently that gives you cancer anyway
(I hope you don't get cancer
While you're talking to your new lover)
And I have quite a few more glasses of ***** now than I ever did
And my laugh just isn't as loud and vibrant
And my daily make-up routine is much more complex
And I can't listen to certain songs anymore
And I sometimes wonder if I'll ever feel loved again
If anyone could pretend to care as much as you did
But I haven't given up hope quite yet