I can turn around. But why?
Maybe look back and heave a sigh.
To ensure, I didn’t walk too far.
If you’re still waiting, to say goodbye.
I can still fall apart. Can I?
Hear another truth, hear another lie.
To believe nothing matters
If you really hated, to see me cry.
I can still fake a smile. But why?
Hide, the sadness of the eyes.
To look in the mirror, at the imperfect face.
If you still found it beautiful, or would you deny.
I can still feel the moonlight. Can I?
Like I did with you, by my side.
To feel your eyes on me.
Knowing it was all a lie.
I can still have you in my life. But why?
And believe all the lies. Can I?
I can still write you a song.
Still let go, of all the wrong.
I can still love you, but why?
I can let go of pain, but why?
There’d be another love, there’d be another try?
I must’ve written this long long back when I was a teenager and probably going through some heartbreak or maybe recovering from it. Just found it a while back and changed some words to not sound juvenile. And I felt how our thinking and perspective towards our own writing changes. What once felt pouring my heart out now feels juvenile! But such is young love I guess?