I wish I could be anywhere else but Im here right beside the road we spent quite a while talking about stuff. Wish I hadnt let you pay for the food we bought, but there went the change. Brought you beer anyway.
Wish I couldnt lie about where I am right now, and Ive walked for a while to see if its worth it walking for a time. I like taking my time. It just wounds me how it could all go downhill for no apparent reason on my end.
Was it anything i said? Was it something I did? Was it anything I didnt do? Or maybe your siblings didnt like me? Or was I too blurry and erratic as a person to be of anything that would matter? I dont know. I dont wanna change for you.
But no, i dont wanna blame you, and no, i dont want you to think about it, and maybe you should get back with that rose, at least the guy made ample sense.
Fuck this bitterness and I wouldnt have written this desperately if it didnt really matter to me but whats a dance to dance with only one pair of feet tapping to a beat only I can hear?
Im fucking tired of assuming and double-crossing and half-thinking and getting drunk and texting you and your friends because it wouldnt make sense.
Im fucking tired of thinking about how I smoke and read in the privy and how clever i get if i try, like how it reminded you of your dad.
Im fucking tired of how all the little things connect like a trail of lines from point to point and form a portrait of two similar souls in two different situations in two different times.
Im fucking tired of thinking how close it could have been to something and if it really meant anything to you, when i walked you home and talked to you till the morn and brought you to my friends and my other friends.
Im absolutely fucking tired of thinking about the chances i didnt take, all the words i didnt say, all the risks i couldve taken all the way, much more than all the wrong things ive said and the bad calls ive had.
Wish i could bring myself to walk out of here as easy as i danced into this. People bring you flowers, but Id be one to plant whole fields for you. I hope this is the last time ill write about you. Ill leave the door open, but maybe, this is how and when I lose you.