Was it my words, so sweet and deliberate?
Was it the way I dress, all whimsy and feminine grace?
Was it the way I looked at you when you talked–intense and doe-eyed,
as if no one else mattered in the world?
How was I to know that you would block the freight train force of my love
And leave me alone along the tracks of a wild, strange place
To navigate on my own
Walk off the shock and disbelief on my face
Was it all a lie–one confusing puzzle of misread signs and over-analyzed lines?
I was never one to lie
My only fault being an open book for anyone to read
Then why do I feel as if the same freight train knocked me over
and left my heart on the tracks, bleeding?