Every night I wonder,
Why do I waste my time to write?
I sit and sit and sit before this computer screen and sometimes my pen,
And I write and write and write.

I wonder to myself,
Could she still love me, or has she changed?
I wonder and I wonder and I wonder until finally I tell myself it doesn't matter,
That I'm only writing to keep myself sane.

But what if she would listen?
I mean, could I read her all these things?
I would read and read and read until I've poured my heart out,
It would bring me such solace.

So here I'll pretend,
I'll pretend, that someday her and I,
We could sit down and talk about our feelings, not only a few,
To find the real truth.

Yes, I will pretend,
I'll pretend, that someday her and I,
We'll take turns in our one person poetry slams, with only one poet,
And a judge who doesn't judge.