it's really sad how little of us has happened,
and yet how much I dream of.

sometimes I adjust pillows on the left side of my bed,
and pretend you're there,
although you have never been in my bed.

i imagine your arm caressing my back,
and i hum myself to sleep.

that way maybe i'll dream it,
because that happens sometimes.

i dream of you,
and you're holding me,
holding my hands.

we are so happy.
in reality?
i make sure you're so happy.

what do you do
while i wait for you
every day?

nothing
you forget about me
pleading innocence and nervousness

you're not genuine at all.
but i refuse to admit it,
because I am so Helplessly condemned to a life of loving you.