The Final Truth
As I tell myself that their love doesn't matter to me, the glistening of my eyes says, i'm lying.
When I look at them and promise I don't care, the salty trails on my cheeks tell me otherwise.
While I'm leaving them and pretending not to look back, the tears falling down betray me.
And as I die, and say i've forgotten them, the sound of my heart breaking is a language of its own.
