I wonder if you think of me. I truly wonder if I'm the one you want. I wonder if I'm someone you love or just a placeholder for a past lover somehow still pursuant in your eyes. I wonder if somehow your kisses aren't meant for me. I wonder if maybe somehow your incoherent moanings are simply his name in an unintelligible commotion of conflicting feelings far too deep for me to discern. I tell the stars about you. I think maybe somehow the stars can understand how I feel about you. You have consumed me. Sometimes I wonder why you stick around because I don't think I have more to offer than this ****** up brain and this ****** up heart. I wonder if you think of me. I've spent countless hours thinking of you. I wonder if you think of me. Sometimes I'm afraid I'm nothing more than a footnote in your epilogue and your story is already written in his arms and I'm just an afterthought. Sometimes I don't understand why you stay. Sometimes i wonder if you realize how much this hurts me. Sometimes I wonder if you think of me. I think of you. Sometimes I wonder if you think of me.