You're a big part of my past, future, and obviously present

And as I look through our pictures, I'm feeling reminiscent.

I remember the first time we met, and trust me when I say this,

Meeting you is something I will never regret, this I promise.

But I miss you more and more each day as the distance grows even stronger

I need you back in my life, I can't do this alone any longer.

Our stupid jokes, our "pet names," even our heart-to-hearts.

I'm seeing you less and less, and I'm falling apart.

It doesn't have to be this way, we both know it's true.

But no matter how much tension or distance there is between us,

I will always love you.

And yes, I miss you.

I really don't understand how I felt the first time I saw you.

Don't you get it though? Now you're on my mind like a scar.

Have you a single clue as to why I follow you around like a lost puppy?

The thought of us is the thing that helps me tolerate the idea of love.

Time will only tell whether or not you feel the same way about me.

To think that just a few months ago, we had never spoken a word to each other.

Be aware though, that if we do hit it off, I'm not perfect. Ask anyone.

Falling for people is easy for me, but it's not easy trying to predict how other people feel.

For just a day, I want you to really get to know me. Figure me out.

You are the reason I can't sleep at night.

You tend to treat the ones you admire like silver,

The ones you desire like gold,

Yet the ones you claim to love, you treat them like scrap metal.

How come I stayed up at night writing poems about you?

How come I was so oblivious?

How come I'm so paranoid that you're going to come back to haunt me?

How come this keeps happening to me?

How come, with every ******* text message you sent my naive self, I didn't realize that I'm so **** vulnerable?

How come you claim to be straight edge, but with every word you said you got me so drunk?

And how come every word you said gave me such a bad hangover, and a bit of realization?

I say "I'm sorry" as if it's a bandage for all the damage I've caused.

Whether that damage be to myself or others.

So I just want to say this.

I'm sorry for the saddening texts at midnight when I'm sitting and reminiscing. I'm sorry for stumbling upon words or stuttering in my sentences when I talk. I'm sorry for speaking silently when I see you, because ****, I'm just so stubborn on the idea of sending messages through a screen. I'm sorry that it's going to be a sticky situation when we see each other for what might be the last time. I'm sorry for even saying all of this. And just remember, once you graduate and you're out of this ****** school in the heart of this ****** town, I'm going to miss you. And I'm sorry for that too.

I lay in bed with writers block.
I don't know what to do when I can't write. I don't know what to do.

I lay in bed with writers block, and I down another sleeping pill. what to do when I can't sleep. I don't know what to do.

I lay on bed with writers block, loopy from the sleeping pills, and I think of the way our skin touched when we first met. I don't know what to do without you. I don't know what to do.

I lay in bed with writers block, loopy from the sleeping pills, thinking of the way our skin touched when we first met, and I feel a warm tear run down my cheek. Warm like the hug we exchanged. I don't know what to do when I miss you. I don't know what to do.

I lay in bed with writers block, loopy from the sleeping pills, thinking of the way our skin touched when we first met, a river of warm tears flowing my tear ducts, like having multiple warm hugs on my cheek, and I think about how you inspire me. I don't know what to do when you're my muse, except write about you.

the thought of you keeps me up at night, and lately I've been pulling a whole lot of all-nighters. You make me warm inside, and lately there's been a heat wave inside of me. You get stuck in my memory, and lately all what I know is the sound of your hellos. You're my favorite record, and lately I've been listening to it all the time. I can go on forever comparing you to objects and telling you how you make me feel, but I'd hope that you'd already know.