The truth is I am not doing that much better since you left,
Even if I sometimes post that I'm "living my best life" on the internet,
The truth is I hate having a broken heart to mend,
And I miss calling you my best friend.

My fingers are blistered from writing sad songs,
On my guitar about all the things I can say you did wrong,
But really I'm just embarrassed that after so long,
I haven't quite worked out to move on.

I still wait by my phone for you to call,
Because it's exhausting pretending I don't miss you at all,

This silence is deafening and I miss what we had,
I miss your voice, your smile, your humour, your laugh.
Even if it's foolish, I'd give you a second chance,
If only you'd ask.

Now we've reached an end, I want to go back to the start,
Even if it would mean you would break my heart,
All over again.