What I hate the most about you is that you used my love against me.

Something once so rare and alluring has lost its value.

When my pillow became too uncomfortable with my soaked tears

I laid awake at night thinking how life is unfair.

That I would fall for someone whose feet never left the ground.

You were a song that I memorized and knew word for word.

A song that now has a dreadful sound.

It hurts when I think about you.

It hurts that I know your favorite color is blue.

It hurts that I wrote this about you.

What hurts the most of all is that I still love you.