You say you feel nothing for her anymore,
and I say: "I know."
But if you say it one more time,
then I won't know anymore,
like I don't know the difference
between my left and my right
anymore.

You say it's all fine,
but you're not the one with her everyday;
with the burning glare of her eyes
branding your neck as you walk down the corridor,
hearing snatches of converation - your name
among them - and that smouldering sense of shame.

I'm not sure how much I can take anymore -
how many smiles I can fake;
how many scowls I can ignore;
how much I can take
from the girl you loved before me
anymore.