You were never mine.
You never held me in your arms at night listening about how my day went.
Never really started up a conversation to which I had grown so accustomed to.
We never kept each other’s secrets for long, for just the two of us to hold.
You were never mine.

Oh, I wish you had held me.
On those long, lonely nights, tears streaming down my face.
In those months I had no one to turn to for my sorrows.
You were never mine.

I would have loved to hear from you. About your day.
I think I loved you. For a moment, a month, an eternity.
If only you cared instead of flying into the arms of another as soon as the opportunity came.
But then again, so did I.
But you were never mine.

I could never call you my own to whom I could confess my deepest secrets and desires.
Or to whom I put all of myself into.
We were doomed from the start.
I think I loved you, but you were never mine.