Love does come stronger - not for us though, right?

I should love, you say. Properly. Not in my way, not like I do it. I don't know love, not like you. Not like yours, the way you want, the way you need me to. So you say. (I see your back when you leave me. I see your tears, those you try to cover. I'm sorry, love, this was the only way, this was the nice way.)

I should do things differently, live life in another way, live so that you fit the equation. I tried, love, but it wasn't enough. Nothing ever is. I need warmth, arms around my body, hands in my hair, words in my ear. (And you didn't provide that for me?)

And still you haunt me, you that make my nights sleepless. Your words, your tears, the expression you left on my iris. It is you, it is grief, longing, belonging. I listen to too much emotions, too many of your songs (and I want more, I want your words, your music dedicated to me, I want it all now, I have to know how you suffer). How do you want me to react, how do you want me to forget? When I hear you through all these words, all these melodies, I suddenly realize: I'm not going to make it (You've already made it, love). Everything that is, is in relation to you (How can you miss something that wasn't enough for you?). You enter my mind, my heart, my body. And now you've outgrown me.

I don't know anything about love (don't believe me, I tend to lie). I know the drill, I've read the manual. I was wrong, love, I was your bad fruit, I was your third wrong. I tried to be the one for you, I tried so hard I almost believed it myself.