I may have made a mistake.

I think I loved you. I think I did. I think I can listen to you every day. I think I could never be mad at your voice. What if your laugh was infections? What if your smile was intoxication? When I held you, I knew exactly the spot I was suppose to. When I kissed you, I knew exactly where to. If you had a problem I would be there.
I think I love you. I think I do.

Shit

This shit makes me dream.
This shit brings imagination.
This shit makes me time travel.
This shit brings me back to you.
This shit takes me back to us.
This shit makes me wonder.
This shit makes me wish.

Wants

I don't want to be your best friend. I don't want simple talks. I want to be envolved with you. I want to be good to you.

Caught

I got caught. Like a rabbit in a snare, I get caught.

Should I say something to you first? We've come this far and still nothing. Or should I let you come to me? I've shown my hand multiple times, wanting to be something.

Fake

I hold this pillow like it's you. I clench this fabric and pretend it's your pores. I begin to slip into false reality, and your contour is in my grasp again.

It is what it is

I take it so personal and so harshly because I hate the extinction of affection and affinity. Even when we go from each other's space, I feel a dismemberment.

The change

Something changed.

I could tell by the way you looked at me. If you don't want to love me, don't look through my soul.