It's Just Something Not-So-Desirably Sentimental

Before it went away, love was never really a big deal
But now, every night, it gets harder to sleep
and easier to lay in bed and dream of you.

And now that I'm sober, I'll waste some more of this conversation
talking about things of no obvious relation
to the feelings outside of the awkward translation
of the feelings I still have for you.

And I never told you what I thought it could be
because what you don't know, it can't hurt you.
So it tore up my soul and it tore us apart
and I became just the one to desert you.

So please excuse me as I run away from the you in me
thank you for the sentiment in tearing me down.
Is it as hard for you to hate me as it is
for me to hate you?

I'll spend weeks trying to clean out my mind
of all of the weakness that all of the others find
is weighing me down.
But I'll still be around.
Because, in historic sense, it's just how I am.
That's the masochist in me;
it's the lover in me.

I see you smile, I see you laugh, I thank myself for leaving.
But then I see you cry and I kill myself for believing
that leaving is what I should have done.

I wish I could have just one more chance,
one more chance to make it right
to prove to you that you are my life.

I try to fade away
to what you led me to believe you want.
But you will forever be a memory
that I will try my best not to want.
If only for you.