I think about us;
what could've happened,
what never did happen,
what I wish happened.
But nothing ever happened.
Sometimes I regret it,
other times I don't.
Everyone would always say
there was something there.
And I would always deny it.
I'd never say what I really meant.
I'd never show what I really felt.
But if you looked really hard,
you'd see those micro-expressions
that said that I was desperately
in love with you;
that seeing you again made me feel...
indescribable.
Seeing you again made me remember
that I miss you.
Even when it looks like I've forgotten,
even when it looks like I don't care,
buried deep down underneath
my fake nonchalant smirk
I'm crying out for you.