Is it really over this time? Or are you keeping me on the back burner like you always have? Let me tell you, I'm not really up for another hand of solitare, even though I know how you love to play. I think I'm just burnt out this whole love thing. I sure as hell never thought I'd be writing stupid poems about how you've let me down. Is it a crime that I still want you? Are you waiting for me to break and come crawling to you, lost on your shore? I wish I could tell you that it won't happen, that I'd be crazy to breathe your name the same way I did when I thought you loved me. But I can't and won't. Because lying to myself won't make the gaping wound in my head hurt any less. I'm just glad that I can't get in my car and drive to your apartment 15 minutes away, and wait for your red celica to pull up. Then watch as you sigh deeply and tell me that its better if I just get in my car and leave. I know in my heart of hearts, that the next time I drive to your place I won't get in my car and leave. I'll stay and make you talk to me, make you listen. And to let you know that I refuse to love you anymore, and that this is your last chance.
Reason for writing:
I am truly glad that I live 600 miles away from my love,
because this is what would happen
Birth sign: Not entered
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