I hate that I loved you,
that I wasted time caring about you,
that my eyes are open and I see your faults and flaws.
I can't remember one good thing about you,
which maybe is better, since I'm nothing to you at all.
The crying child when you're watching a show,
the passionate young drummer in the middle of the night,
the sound of lawnmowers during your afternoon nap,
the person noisily speeding down the road.
I'm nothing to you and soon you will be a very long distance memory.
