And I don't know why I still write about her,
Or why I still think about her,
Or check my phone for a message from her,
Or dream of her before sleep,
When we're supposed to be done.

When we don't make effort for each other,
When we've (she's) been with other people,
When we've (I've) become infatuated with others,
When we're living our lives and growing on our own.

I don't know why,
I cling to the idea of her so.
Maybe because it's bright.
The effect she had on me.
Maybe I miss it.
Maybe I long for it.
Maybe she's a reminder that my heart
Dark and foul,
Could still love another.
Could love so hard it knew neither up or down,
Could get so lost in another
That time and space became muddled.

Maybe our paths have deviated,
But is set for reunion.
But until that time,
If it ever comes,
I will continue looking back,
Growing in reflection,
And taking my time.

Taking the time to figure out
Why loving her is the only thing I know.