One Last Time "I don't love her," I protest.
But I'm not even fooling myself.
I keep waiting to feel your thorns.]
"I love you," she whispers.
Lies taste so sweet on her lips.
(Make-believe) Love Dear boy-that-I-never-expected,
Sometimes I wonder if I love(ed) you.
P.S. It's almost your birthday. What do you want?
Sometimes I wonder if I kissed you, would you love me.
Would you tell me the truth?
P.S. All I want is a girl who doesn't want me.
Let's be straight, boy.
If we were in love, I would've noticed by now.
P.S. Happy birthday.
You know, you told me a year ago to give up.
What does that tell you?
P.S. I'm still young.
(I make believe that we still have a chance because I'm
Pseudo-love -- [we are hiding from pain.]
For the first time she notices his hands are covered in scars. He follows her gaze and his eyes grow worried.
"What " she starts to say, but her voice trails off.
Eventually he answers her unspoken question. "When I was three my dad got smashed and gave me a knife to play with.
My mom came home and found me covered in blood and crying."
She's shocked. "Didn't it hurt?"
If This is What it Takes "I'm going to break your heart." she tells me.
"You already did." I laugh, "I'm not going to let you do it again."
But she smiles and slams her fist into my chest.
"I don't love you," she says softly.
"I don't love you either," I lie. I pretend it hurts, but really, I can't feel a thing.
Our eyes meet and I start to wonder what we're saying.
But she turns and walks away, leaving me with tingling lips and a bruised heart.
I'm so tired of being sad.
It's hard, watching his heart snap under that pressure. He's no twig, but he isn't strong enough to hold the whole world on his shoulders. He's got cracks, just like the rest of us. The