With this old pen I found in my bag,
And this clean paper I had to borrow,
I'll write you a cliché poem in this coffee shop,
About lost memories and sweet sorrow.

I miss you, that's obvious.
I dream of you, you must know.
I am reminded of you by everything,
But I guess that's how these things go.

We know we're nothing special.
People fall everyday.
Then life pulls us back, our hearts are torn up,
And we don't say what we want to say.

By the way, I'm doing fine.
I've mostly moved on.
I can smile and I can laugh.
I can listen to our song.

I wonder how you are without me.
Secretly I hope you're unwell.
And as for you're new girlfriend,
She can just go to hell...

But I know I'm still not saying
What's really bouncing around in my head.
But I think we both know what that is,
So I'll just leave it unsaid.

I will say I hope you still feel it,
That forbidden four-letter word.
Because it's stayed locked up in my heart,
So I'll keep it unsaid and unheard.