It’s like you want to make me cry
everytime we talk about the past.
I could say that you’re an ass
but it just wouldn’t be true.
I keep thinking of you
even when I don’t want to.
It’s makes me kind of angry.
But only at myself.
Because telling you that
“you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Was probably the truest thing I ever said.
angst, angst, angst…