I'm sorry I never told you I love you.

That your flowers died
and heart withered.
That I never told you how it felt;
it felt broken.

And when you told me what it meant
it meant that you were done with it
And I was alone again
while you confessed your happiness.

You know I'm glad that you moved on,
that you no longer hurt,
not anymore,
not ever again.

I never admitted
you had stolen something of mine.
But I never want my heart back,
so never return it like you can.