Just Tell Me You Don't Love Me Just tell me you don’t love me;
I can live with that.
I can acknowledge an ending when I see a period
firmly in place,
but you won’t do that, will you?
No, you’ll let me down easy.
You’ll hold my hand, and look into my eyes,
and use one of those continuing lines,
I want you, but…

Don’t you know that but stands like a door
without a handle?
But looks like fresh cut flowers we pretend
aren’t already dying.
But feels like the false hope you hand me before
you walk away.