Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe I still think about you.
Maybe I still wish we could have turned out differently.
If we met later in life,
when we were both more mature and actually knew what we were doing.
We were both so young,
but oh so in love.
Or at least I think that's what you could have called it.
And maybe I'm still in love with you,
down in the deepest part of my heart,
maybe a part of it still belongs to you.
And maybe we could have made it.
Stayed together
and grew together.
But maybe doesn't mean anything.
And neither do we.