It's stupid that I can't listen to Lifehouse without thinking about you. That was so long ago; I should have forgotten all the words to "You and Me" by now. All the things I should have done and said and felt, well they're figments. I'm happy really. I've got so much to be thankful for.
There's this boy and he's so great and quirky. He's wonderful and kind and easy and he makes me laugh. It just feels good. Right. It's simple. But then I'm about to kiss him and there you go, resurfacing. I could love him, I really honestly could, if only you'd let me. The truth is, loving him wouldn't be a chore or a task I've always wanted to complete. It would just be love. I wouldn't have to try to please him or make sure I look impeccable. He's the type of person who is delighted by the smile on my face, who thinks I look the most beautiful bare-faced. He brushes my hair out of my eyes when I'm talking to fast and don't even notice it. He makes fun of me and holds the door. He let's me drink out of his glass. He kisses my cheeks and forehead and nose. I am enough for him.
But there's the endless flirting, the endless possibility of you coming back to me. Loving me, finally. You broke my heart. Still everyday, it breaks. Of course it does. Into a million pieces and that means something. Everything you've ever done means something. Every damn word, every charming gesture, every careless perfection you possess. I guess what I'm trying to say is: leave me alone. Please. Don't argue or convince me to watch the stars with you or call me late at night. Just go. It's what I want.
No comments:
Post a Comment