Where are you?
You’re not coming are you?

It’s okay,
I always knew you wouldn’t.
It’s just, there’s this stupid,
Childish
Part of me that likes to fantasise.
She knows you’re no good for her really,
But she imagines it’s all make-believe,
She captures her wildest, strangest dreams
And forges them into some kind of reality.

It’s sick though,
Because that little girl;
You can do anything to her
(Anything at all),
And guess what?
She’ll always forgive you.
She has it stuck in her head,
That she always needs to try again:
It’s as if she owes them all,
Even though she’s the one who took the fall.

I don’t know why she’s still here though,
Waiting.
She doesn’t want you anyway.
She could find herself someone much better to love,
Someone who’s worthy and won’t leave her
Before they had the chance to stay.
Then again,
That’s also just another twisted hopeful dream.