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I recognize the song you're listening to. I can hear it humming out of your headphones when you're sitting on the chair next to me. It's the same song you've sung to me on our second date, in that restaurant near the river. It's the exact same song. Or was that "Jeremy"? Does it mean anything to you? You don't seem to remember (and neither do I, apparently), it's become just some random song to you. Maybe it always has been. It's the same song you used to sing whenever you were in the mood to sing it. You've sung it, sitting on the sidewalk, shouting it out to the world with your headphones still on. You didn't care about what people would think. You simply sat there and sung, texting me about it right away -- my curb romantic. If it hadn't been you, I might have been embarassed, but I never was. It always made me smile, even though the people stopped and stared at us. I loved your little craziness. Sometimes I miss it so much it hurts. It hurts, so that I can't breathe. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. (But I don't want you back.)
0
Jul 1, 2010
Jul 1, 2010 at 9:14 AM UTC
Curb Song
I recognize the song you're listening to. I can hear it humming out of your headphones when you're sitting on the chair next to me. It's the same song you've sung to me on our second date, in that restaurant near the river. It's the exact same song. Or was that "Jeremy"? Does it mean anything to you? You don't seem to remember (and neither do I, apparently), it's become just some random song to you. Maybe it always has been. It's the same song you used to sing whenever you were in the mood to sing it. You've sung it, sitting on the sidewalk, shouting it out to the world with your headphones still on. You didn't care about what people would think. You simply sat there and sung, texting me about it right away -- my curb romantic. If it hadn't been you, I might have been embarassed, but I never was. It always made me smile, even though the people stopped and stared at us. I loved your little craziness. Sometimes I miss it so much it hurts. It hurts, so that I can't breathe. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. (But I don't want you back.)
July 1st, 2010 Copyright by A. S. Wrights
Written by
a-s-wrights
German
Jul 1, 2010
Jul 1, 2010 at 9:14 AM UTC
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