the rain kissed my face when you would not. ironically, its sorrowful downpour was a reminder that everything will be okay. (for just as rain tends the soil back to life after every desolate winter, flowers will emerge from the site of my pain)
I fear that I am not getting over you as I thought. I know you and I want two different things. You say ‘just friends’ but I am driven wild by the thought of kissing you. It may be selfish, but I would give anything for the memory of my touch to be the only thought running through your head at 3am when you can’t sleep. I want to be the ghost of a feeling at the back of your mind which you can never quite shake. I want you to dream about me, To feel the hollow aches of loneliness I felt when you left. I just want you to want me.
you were my first obsession; i want to be your last