You don’t know how many nights I’ve been wishing for you to stay.
You don’t know how I still look at the stars with the same hopeful glint in my eyes that you’ll come back.
I woke up today with an ache in my chest – one that seems to cut through my insides. I dreamt about you; well, I dream about you nearly every night. It was pure torture, it was a nightmare.
I couldn’t shake off the way you look at her – it’s the same way I always wanted you to look at me. And it hurts to think that maybe all along it was just me making things up – making an issue out of everything.
Maybe you didn’t really hold my hand with that much excitement; Maybe you never really wanted to sing to me; Maybe we never really danced chest deep into the water; Maybe it wasn’t you I danced El Bimbo with under the Paraluman painting; Maybe I just imagined all of this, and maybe you never really asked me to kiss you when we were high up in the air because you were afraid of heights – maybe it was all just me.
And maybe you never really loved me; but, were just being polite.