you won’t let me get over you.
it’s not like it’s your fault. it’s not like you know what you do to me every time your hand finds its way to my waist, or every time you give me one of your extra-strength hugs, or every time your texts light up my screen with “LOVER” as the caller-ID because you programmed it to do that.
and i know you don’t mean anything by it. i know you’re in love with her and her petite grace and her exotic beauty. i threw in the towel before you even showed me her picture. before i saw how genuine her smile was. before i saw how perfectly toned she was. i knew i had no chance because i could see she was always on your mind. maybe almost as often as you’re on mine. probably not, though.
but every time you touch me, look at me, call me, text me, smile at me, i can’t help but hope with all my heart that there’s a reason for it. that you’re keeping my heart wrapped around your finger with purpose. and i hope with all my reason that i can cut myself loose, because i know you’re hers, and i don’t want to want you anymore. it hurts.
you won’t let me get over you, because you have no idea how i feel. remember that night i came over to bring you some chocolates because you thought i was picking other friends over you? remember how i lied on your chest, in your bed, as your arm wrapped around my waist until 4:30 in the morning? and we talked about us, and her, and joked that if i slept over, rumors might start, but we’d never have to worry about them being true, because you had her, and i wasn’t attracted to you. remember how i “mm-hmm”ed to every part until the end? and then i went silent, and you asked me, “everything i just said is true, isn’t it?” and for the longest millisecond, i considered telling you about the electric current that runs through my veins and shocks my heart every time you’re close by, but instead, i just sighed, “yeah, sure.”
you won’t let me get over you, and i’m not strong enough to tear myself away.
