I'm sorry I take everything personally.
You're just trying to move on
when I'm the one that let go,
but for some reason it's me
gripping your ankles and begging you
I'm sorry I can't forget.
These lines are etched inside my mind
and I run my fingers over them,
trying to recall a time
when they made sense to me,
when they weren't enigmas carved
I wish I could just let you go.
You don't deserve this constant reminder
that nothing worked out when it came to us
and now we're both unsure where we stand
but we want to stand together,
happy or not.
At least, that's what I want.
But I'm sorry I don't know when to let go.
Even though it seems that's all I'm good at.