You're in a hallway with endless doors,
some are open, some are closed.
They look inviting but
you'd rather find the one that pulls you with force.
you come across my room,
and you wait there patiently like it's yours.
"You don't have a key," I said
but he ignores.
You sat out there and waited so long
I started to wonder why you did that,
and if we would get along.
I talked and whispered, through the door
I didn't open it yet, incase something went wrong.
On the days I was upset, you'd slip notes
to tell me you believed that I was strong.
Slowly, our friendship began but
still the door was shut, and I sang my song.
Two years passed before you asked if you could come in
I gave it some thought
then nodded, with a grin.
You told me that you only stuck through
because you knew you could win -
but it wasn't true, you cared so much
that I was under your skin.
Then you wondered, interrogating me,
"Do you feel the same within?"
Maybe you were still unwelcome, I wasn't sure,
you couldn't take it and your patience started to run thin.
It wasn't all my fault, but I'll share the blame.
I miss you, sometimes
even if you think time's changed
and we're not the same.
Do you remember the time I got mad when I overslept
because we stayed up to watch the game?
The time you gave in to my music,
after insisting it was lame.
The memory I'm most fond of is the one when
you offered me your last name.
I wonder if you still walk in that hallway,
and if now, you walk around without an aim.