Handwritten letters, pretty paper crafts,
Do they matter to you?
Are you in art?
If you are, then it\'s awesome,
\'cause I could make them forever for you,
if having you as mine becomes a dream come true.
I love you. Do you?
You say \"for sure,\" but I don\'t feel even a speck of that affection.
So I ask again,
\"Do you really?\"
Or is it just a one-sided attraction?
Please tell me the truth;
I don\'t want the lies to be more,
because just what was it that I did not give you, amor?
And what did you give me before?
I guess empty words of hope, for sure.
Oh darling, you can wish you could settle the score,
but I don\'t expect anything from you anymore.
I don\'t want.
I don\'t want the replies of the letters I wrote you months before,
or the replies of questions you know I seek for sure.
I don\'t want gifts from you or for you to hold my hand,
because I know you know that if you really wanted, you can.
I don\'t want you.
I don\'t want you to reciprocate my feelings, no offense,
\'cause I already know you don\'t love me, in your defense.
No, I don\'t want you to make me stay.
What\'s the point of it now when I\'ve already withered away?
But I guess it\'s all a lie,
some part of me will always want you,
because even if I\'ve went away,
I can\'t bring myself to bid adieu.
But I hope,
I hope I would not want you anymore, I swear.
And even if I do, I\'ll make sure no one is aware.
I hope that if someday someone asks me on the road of life, a mess,
\"Do you still want her to be yours?\"
I will not leave them to guess.
I would say,
\"No, I don\'t beg for love anymore,
\'cause love is a choice, not a contest.\"