You Don’t Want Me
I've come to a conclusion.
You don't want me.
Moving on is the hardest thing I can't do.
Why do our hearts work in mysterious ways when we know what we want?
The thoughts of our memories consume me.
Almost like a stab to the center of my back.
The only feeling is the warmth of the blood running down my spine.
What we call "love" can hurt us to the point of never loving again.
So we live to love, but learn to love the things that hurt us.