I make things harder than it needs to be.
Its like I enjoy the melancholic feeling every time I think of you
but I don't,
truth is,
I did this to myself,
I was the one who lit up the matches and watched them burn to the end;
flame touching my fingers,
the ever so burning sensation I get when I'm reminded that my own self sabotage let you go.
Its not enough though,
to go back to you.
Trust me when I say that the thing in life I wish I had the most right now would be you,
your hand in mine
but the feeling I get when you hand actually touches mine, the slightest bit, isn't what I expected.
I made it like this
I ruined such a perfectly good thing, and there's no way I'm getting it back.