I have a rough draft all typed out
of what I’d say to you
if I ever got the courage
to tell you how I really feel.
It’s sitting there in my notes,
and I see it everyday.
It’s short and sweet
and would easily fit into a text,
but this is me we’re talking about,
and I’ll never be brave enough
to bare it all
and just straight-up tell you what I want.
But I still get this notion
that I’ll change someday,
and it’ll be this big thing
like you see in the movies,
and maybe I’ll get another shot with you,
as if that would solve all my problems.
It’s really stupid.
And I keep asking myself,
I’m not asking you,
I’m asking the universe
It’s really stupid.
There’s no other word for it,
And I have this big fantasy
that one night I’ll send you that text
and you’ll wearily check your phone
ask me if I’m okay
and I’d open up to you
and you’d do the same for me
and then you’d ask me out to lunch the next day
and we’d meet in this little coffee shop
one that’s all cozy and intimate
and has a booth just for us
and we’d order sandwiches
but we’d just let them sit there
because we’d be too nervous to eat.
You’d wear that shirt I always loved
and I’d wear a striped sweater with sleeves that cover my hands as I hold the handle of my coffee mug
my hair would be piled on the top of my head
bags under my eyes
I’d look like hell
but you wouldn’t mind
and then we’d just talk
and it’d be perfectly spoken
with all the right pauses and dramatic eye contact
like a movie
it’d all be very cliche
and then you’d take my hands in yours
and say you’re sorry
and I would too
and we’d leave that restaurant as friends
knowing we’d eventually get back together
and I’d walk home smiling
as the credits roll.
But that’s not real life
and instead of stupid coffee shop fantasies
all I have is tantrums
within the confines of my bedroom
bleeding pain in my head
so enraged at myself
for leaving you.
I should have never done that
and look at what I have now.
And while I wasn’t always happy with you
I’d rather be miserable at your side
than be angry and alone.
But I’m not going to have you again.
Fuck the coffee shop
and fuck the sandwiches we didn’t eat
fuck that rough draft text
and fuck me
because all I want it that perfect scene
but because I left you
it’ll always be
just a fucking fantasy.