I said I was done,
I said I was through
but how many times have i said that to you?
I said I didnt love you,
that I didnt care,
but I turned around
and you were still there.
How many times
have I cried,
because you weren't here,
but knew that if I was beside you
you would not even care?
And why do I bother talking to you
if you never listen
and most of all
why do I still care about you at all?
That crazy feeling that makes us wonder about love? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Seems to happen to the best of us huh?