I wish he meant it when he kissed me,
because then I could look back & remember someone who loved me.
Now I can only look back & realize someone used me.
I don’t regret loving you. I only regret believing that you loved me too.
I have wasted thousands of kisses on you…
kisses that I thought were special because of your lips
& your smile & all your color & life.
I used to think that was the real you, when you smiled.
But now I know you didn’t mean any of it.
You just save it all for your songs.
Shame on me for kissing you with my eyes closed so tight.
Being brokenhearted is like having broken ribs.
On the outside it looks like nothing’s wrong,
but every breath hurts.
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