Io non vivo, sopravvivo.

I was stupid enough to believe someone like you could ever love someone like me.

False hope was the worst thing that you ever gave me

I know. I know that when you said “Thank you”, you meant “No, thank you.” I know you meant “You will never compare to her.” I know you meant “I’m sorry I cannot love you the way you want me to.” I know that. And I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry, that instead of a girl with pretty eyes and a prettier smile, it’s the girl with tired eyes and broken lips that fell in love with you. I’m sorry, that instead of a princess with a golden heart and a soft touch, you get a disaster of a girl with calloused hands that keep trying to reach out to you. I’m sorry that I can never have the beauty you saw in her, that I can never have the brilliance you fell in love with, that I can never offer you anything greater than what she can possibly offer you. I’m sorry, that my poetry isn’t enough, that my tears can never make you sad, that my smiles can never cheer you up, that my concern and worry and pathetic adoration are things you can’t ever truly feel, all because you are still too hung up on someone else.