It's been too long to ask you why. But, it's also been too recent to not go hunting for answers. A long list of questions you left behind. Along with a very unsettled girl, and a wiser heart.
I was that warm, comfy sweater on a ruthlessly cold night. While she, that skimpy tank you thought looked cool.
Every time you fell sick, I was that tonic tending to you and her, that egoistic attitude saying, "I am fine."
I, those miles you had to cover before you rested. And she, that sleep you knew you hadn't earned.
Was she there when you had broken your wrist? When you learned you may not be able to write again? But she was there to sign the cast, and say sickenly sweet things like "It's going to be okay", were those false assurances going to really make it okay?
I was the hard, ugly truth, while she, the glorified satin lie.
I am not her, but she wasn't me either.
Your shatterproof pride couldn't digest the fact, that you needed a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, after the death of your estranged best friend. Not a meaningless fling to supposedly get things out of your head.
I wasn't her, who gave you everything you wanted. But she wasn't me either, who was everything you needed.
'I need you', your lips would mumble,
I see her lipstick shade on them.
Set right in the middle of those tear-stained cheeks, You were so scared to lose me, or was that a facade? A face behind your actual being;
I don't hold anything against you, but I do have unsolved queries, which make me uneasy; was it me? Or was it your hollow pride? Of course, you loved me. Right?
But, if I was everything you needed, why did you still leave?
You don't inhale carbon if oxygen becomes boring, do you?
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