never be the first again

While I had been the first one to say, 'I love you,'

and you eagerly returned the phrase with a smile.

This is what makes it worse, makes this much harder

to tell you there was no feeling inside that whisper.

I have now grown into a man and I know when I'm wrong

and it was a mistake, I know, to have strung you along.

If only I could blame you then I wouldn't be burning,

inside of my soul is a fever that is certain to do me in.

Each night I mourn the hours I wasted that morning,

'cos no matter what I do I cannot help but feel so wrong

and the worst part is, I admit, you weren't the only one.

Pretty faces, soft skin, sparkling eyes, that is my sin.

My house is filled with notebooks, each a lovely, song

and the odds are you could just so easily sing, along

as if you were present at rehearsal; because each one

is nothing but a coded journal entry about every woman.

Excuse me if you find it crude how I can so easily share

the details of our intimate moments without a single care.

A room that is full of strangers, but not one calls to me.

It was in my youth that I found written out as if on cue,

the words I needed to say i could see them in your pupil-

there was no trying, you were the part of me that was real