this delusion we once called love.
how could you claim to love me when you can't even look at the real me, properly?
is the real me such a foul figure?
they're still the same hands that held you and the lips which I used to explain how much I adored you.
this delusion we once called love.
how could you claim to love me when you can't even look at the real me, properly?
is the real me such a foul figure?
they're still the same hands that held you and the lips which I used to explain how much I adored you.