Lately I’ve been staring at my ceiling,
Thinking daily, pondering the feeling
That you hate me,
And how that makes me feel.
I’m uncertain that you ever cared or thought that love was real,
But I still find a million reasons to keep the things you left behind.
Like the letters that we wrote your first semester in the fall
Or the pictures in my closet that used to hang upon my wall
They’re still not gone,
You wouldn’t expect that would you?
You didn’t expect that did you?
I can’t blame you, I never thought I’d keep them, after all.
And after all I was the one who had to finally make the call.
I had to leave, you didn’t love me for me.
Why can’t you see, you didn’t love me for who I am?
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