Your sparkling eyes
Make it hard to see behind the lies
Why do I put up with this disguise
I know what I have given you…
I do not know what you have received.
I think it is all a matter of love; the more you love a memory the stronger and stranger it becomes.
Things usually make sense in time, and even bad decisions have their own kind of correctness.
"I pretend to understand because I don’t want anybody to be hurt."
Soon we will be strangers. No, we can never be that. Hurting someone is an act of reluctant intimacy. We will be dangerous acquaintances with a history.