I wish I could say
exactly how I feel;
how you make me feel
like I give you an orchard
but all you return with
is an apple.

How you make me think
I will never get
the pleasure of your mother
offering me a politely declined tea.

How you make me feel
like nobody could ever
love me like she loves you.

How you make me doubt it all;
how you are so unapproachable.

Now come off it, darling,
you know it’s true, too.

I was ‘good’
but I was never good enough for you.

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