Prisoner of My Own Heart.

I loved him more than anyone else before him.
I handed him my heart in peices and he glued it back together.
His voice was the last thing I heard before I slept,
and often the first I heard in the morning.
I tried to give things up for him.
But it only caused fights.
I wanted things he could not give me.
He wanted things I could not give him.
And like an old habit our love died hard.