Truth is, I prefer not to talk about you. Not to mention how I feel when you hold me, What your kisses mean. Truth is, I wake up I turn to kiss your back, Only to realise you’re not here anymore. You’re my heaven and you’re my personal hell. Everything I want, and everything I despise. So no, I don’t want to talk to my friends, About how happy you can make me, About how mean you can be, How my every nerve acts up when you come near me. I don’t want to hear about how “he’s so