you cried, and it was my fault and my mouth won't stop running and you have thoughts of leaving and I'm going to love you forever, I'm sorry.
I hurt you and you hurt me, and now it's your fault, but I won't let you blame yourself because you're beautiful and I'm weak and I can't let stars like you shine so dimly.  
You swear to God we'll change, but I don't believe in God, and suddenly I knew we weren't okay.
You were a stranger among my mother's roses that I picked because your thorns were beautiful soaked in my blood, and we both knew you'd be stuck in my skin, and I did nothing to stop it.
Now you're hurt, I've picked the last petal, and I still love you, and I'm sorry.
He loves you not.