They developed a style for you
A style that neither suited you nor humiliated you
It paid you no attention, not as much as I did
No one was ever as good to you as me
No one will ever understand you the way I do
And that’s the truth
They say the truth hurts
No. I’ll tell you what hurts.
Sinister, secretive sordid lies. That’s what hurts
And their stains you can never erase
Like blackberry juice, there forever, glaring at you
Faded but never invisible
And it hurts like hell. And it stings like hell
But this is the world in which I met you
And this is the world that you will get used to
I’ll be seeing you then.