I don't know how to be something you miss.
It's just that I don't think of endings,
I just wanted to know what it would be to be kissed.
Let's make this clear,
I should have told you real clear and slow,
I don't miss you,
I stopped missing you a very long time ago.
But you were my metaphor,
I thought you were an open door,
You represented something that you took from me,
I thought it was my property.
You were a symbol,
That came crashing down,
You were a usurper
Who stole my crown.
I guess I shot the messager,
And people don't understand,
How just three days could hurt me so bad,
But I don't miss you,
I miss what I could have had.
It takes two seconds to get over a person like you,
But it takes more than two years to get over the idea,
That I might have something that I used to think would make me complete.
I cried your name,
So my pain would have a face,
I had to fly my arrow at something.
I flattered myself with could be's,
And let you flatter yourself into thinking
That I let you get to me.
And I've kept my silence,
Because I was too proud,
But now I admit I hated you,
Because it was easier hating you,
Than hating myself.
So this is me saying sorry,
I don't forgive you,
But I'll admit I buried you in my pain,
And just kept your name.
In the movies there was always a boy to blame.
I needed a boy to blame for things that I couldn't control.
I had to blame someone,
I couldn't face blaming myself,
I told myself it was your fault,
Because you weren't exactly without fault.
I made a villain out of a villain who was still a kid.
And for that,
I guess I'm sorry.
Although I know that it never really bothered you.
I never knew how to be something you'd miss.
Here we are.
I hope it's nice where you are.