“Of the million things you ‘had to say’, you’d think ‘sorry’ just might have found its way in their somehow, someway.”
“Regardless of if my pictures still line your mirror; you know that I’ll still wait for your call…”
(Does this make me look childish?)
When you’re finished reading this all, will you still see me the same way? Will I be anything more to you or anything less (as if it is possible)?
There’s only one thing I ever really have asked from you: as long as you’re around, just don’t let me down. Hopes are high and esteem is low. It’s depressing; I doubt you noticed (and it hurts out of your league). I doubt you even care.
(You’re making me feel small)
Got to see you last week, hope to see you again. I need more moments to ask “remember when?” I need more substance; I need you to feel close so I can know how you feel. I’m miserable, and you’re never going to get started.
(Does this make me look childish?)
It’s all broken up into tiny fragments which can barely be put together and recognized. But, I love the way you nod and roll your eyes as you try to tell exactly what it is I’m saying. “Let’s just get this over with.”