Not your fault…it just doesn’t matter anymore to you. Don’t deny, you don’t have to… my fault, as always. But it isn’t the same anymore, you know. I touched your face, but it isn’t the same. It’s cold, as cold as I’ve turned you. No wonder my fault, and I mean it when I say it. I look into your eyes, but they aren’t deep anymore. Feels like you’re trying to block the rays emerging from my eyes from entering yours. Like you’re trying your best to resist everything. But I know it’s all my fault, for real.
What do I call it? Remorseless or repenting? That after all I put you through, I’m still touching your skin in hope that I’ll turn you warm again.
Is it barefaced of me or is it brave of me? That after everything I’ve done, I still look into your eyes without a hesitation, that I still believe that it is only me who possesses the right to do so.
Is it Shameless of me that after all of my erromeous deeds, I still stand the courage to complain to you about this hateful situation. I really am complaining. I be pretending that I ain’t, but deep down,
I REALLY AM COMPLAINING