Isn’t it Ironic?

I don’t know why I can’t let go of you. You’ve told me you love someone else, yet I still torture myself by calling you trying to patch things over. No one could love you like I do… No one will ever fuck you like I did. I’ve tried to let go… I can’t I just can’t, and I wish I knew why. I would have killed for you, and now I’m dying from you… Isn’t it Ironic? I’m doing everything I can for your love, I’ve become a neat freak, because you hated the condition of my room… My apartment is spotless. I’ve lost weight, so now we can run around during the summer and I wont get tired. I get pierced every chance I get, you always liked me with facial piercings and now I have them all over again. I write for you, I fight for you…  My inner opaque has become umbra.  People say I have a beautiful soul… Well… The freshly fallen snow has been trampled…