Oh please, teach me the art,
of how easily you tear me apart.
Love, where do I start,
to pick up the pieces of my broken heart.
Our love was sweet yet so bitter.
It felt hot though it was winter.
Alive but as it slowly withers.
I'm hoping for something better.
Every ending comes with a new beginning.
Love was never meant to be binding.
It should be bright but not blinding
and must have that perfect timing.
So now I'll tell you where to start.
Listen as this is the important part.
It's easy, no need for a chart.
Yourself.
There's where you should start.
