I know it's wrong, but every time I look at that picture of you kissing her, my heart breaks all over again. And again. And again.
Every time she tells you she loves you, does it feel the same as the times I said it? Does she even mean it?
Sometimes, when I think about you, I wonder if you're thinking about me too.
You never are.
There used to be a light at the end of the tunnel. It came from you.
Then she stepped in front of you and now I can't see where I'm going anymore.