Now hang me out to dry, you've wrung me out too, too, too many times.

He doesn't love me the way I love him.
That, I know.
He doesn't know how.
And he can't.

He loves someone else.
Someone I am not.

He does not find solace in my arms,
Nor I in his.

He is broken.
But so am I.
More than I ever was.

I wish you luck.
But we can't be friends.

I've already told you this.
And
I'm not sorry this time.