The first time you said I love you
I thought you said it too soon
Like the way my wounds would heal
everytime I cut open my skin
The second time you said I love you
I felt it was forced
Like you were trying to please my own
The third time you said I love you
It was unexpected
It was before I went to bed
And I felt a smile creep in my face and content settled my head

Everytime you say I love you
I hear but I don't accept
It's not that I want to reject
But it's that I cannot feel
I know it is cliche
But babe it is not you it is me

All this time, there lives a question At the back of my head: How can you love me when I don't even love myself.