I tend to spend my nights alone,
Miserable in my home,
Wondering what went wrong.
See, I have a tendency
To over analyze things.
What makes you, you,
Is what makes me believe.
See I believe-
There is something greater,
A higher power.
This is just my tendency.
I tend to believe
Every thing happens for a reason.

Honestly, I don't know
What the reason could be.
Was it heart break season?
Had you had enough of me?
Was I meant to suffer,
If so why me?

Ignoring the discrepancy
Of you love, but must leave me
I should thank you.
To the message left on my voice mail:
I am sorry to hear your breaking up with me
But thank you for not doing so publicly.
In person I might beg for you to reconsider.
I cant help but think, if you REALLY loved me
Would you be content with being
Just a voice in my inbox?
Sorry to question you, voice,
but that is just my tendency.