I smiled the best way I can and wished you well,
Wished you all the love and happiness you deserve.
Wished you happy times with her, whose next to you,
And while doing so, I wonder “can he tell I’m hurting?”
Can he see pass the forced smile?
Can he see the shadows in my eyes?
Can he see the tears almost escaping;
The tears held together by pride?
Why is it so hard; saving one’s pride;
And why is it so important?
Why does it always end with:
“It’s not you, it’s me?”
Did I feel like shooting you or me?
Did I want to rip and tear her apart?
Did I wish it never happened?
Question is – does it matter?
Does it matter what I feel at this point,
Knowing I’d give more than you can?
Knowing the distance you can cross for me,
Doesn’t even come to a single mile.