Sometimes I lay on my bed and stare out my window.
I wonder what you're doing
I wonder if you ever think of me...
Of us.
You are so good at pretending...
But me; not so much.
Whenever I see you.
Or say your name
My heart jumps and my stomach flutters.
Whenever I think of you
I relive all the times we've talked,
Touched...
Kissed.
I hate to admit it but I miss it.
I miss sneaking out with you and running away to the park.
I miss laying in your arms as we stared into the stars.
I miss...February. And March. And July. And August.
That's the truth.
I miss when we had something...
Even if that something was hardly anything to you...
It was everything to me.
April, May and June...
When we became nothing...
When that something we had was just a dream for you
And a bitter sweet reality for me...
When we became strangers...
Life hurt.
My eyes grew tired
And my face began to wash away the smile I had painted on.
You were once the reason I stopped cutting...
And why I was happy.
Then you became just another reason for me to hack away at my skin again.
I don't think you realize how much you broke me.
But then again maybe you didn't...
Maybe you just helped me...

Sometimes...I lay on my bed and think of you.
Sometimes...I let the sunlight that shines through my window dance along my forearm.
Sometimes...I can still make out the scars.

And that's when it comes to my mind.

 

And I wonder...

Does he even think about me...about what we used to be?

Does it ever come to his mind, like it sometimes comes to mine?