If She Were to See

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I miss you.
Even if I shouldn't.

And I wonder
if
maybe,
perhaps,
hopefully,
you want to see me too.

Sometimes I wonder
if
maybe,
most likely,
realisticly,
the two of us
are tying hard to lie to ourselves.

That could go either way
I suppose.

We can be pretending
to want each other,
like an old married couple.

Or
we can be pretending
that we don't give
a damn about the other.

But then I remember
all those months
and hours
where I survived
without
hearing from you
and I realize that maybe
the only one affected by all of this
was me.

Because you
will go on and
have a life
that will be
the focal point of
some lucky
guys
existence,

whilst I
jump
from person to person
and keep your number
in my speed dial
in case there comes that day
when you have run out of
everything
and you are willing
to settle for little old
me.

And there will come soft rain.

What would the world be like without you?
(Safe, and sound, empty, healthy, and happy?)
I can lay back,
ponder that for hours on end.

I could be
with a great
boy right now,
(I think you would like him for me)

I think if
the world was different,
If the cards had been dealt different.
I could learn to love him.

But I've been
burned out of that.

I'm fresh out of young love.
Come again next week maybe.

To be perfectly honest,
you and I only exist
in my head.

In pages of paper
that I burned down to ashes
with my tears.

You were
the best girlfriend
anyone could ever ask for,

at least in my mind.

But
the human you
always left
me
wanting.

I couldn't reach out
and pull you to me
the way my arms craved to do.

Society, and you, wouldn't want that.
So now
I sit
up here alone as always.

With just
my little rambles about dreams to keep me company.

Call Me.
Maybe,
Hopefully,
Most likely not.





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