You can walk in the room and take my breath away,
make my heart skip beats,
until it eventually stops.
My heart hurts when I talk to you,
you yearn for a girl who isn’t me,
and this has happened many times.
My heart deserves an Olympic medal for breaking.
And when you text me I fall a little harder,
every time I see your name come up on my screen.
But I know I’m just another girl you talk to,
because one time, you had to ask who I was.
And I call you my “guy best friend” because in stories,
the boy and girl who are best friends,
always end up together.
And the Disney movies where the girl always finds her prince,
give me hope that maybe mine is out there too.
But when I hear you talk about her,
about how much you like her,
it makes me realize that I’ll never be able to call you mine.
In truth, I’m not really being fair to myself,
I’m setting myself up for heartbreak.
Though sometimes I wonder,
would I really let you hold me in your arms?
Because we don’t fit together. Not in the slightest.