back then, I like to talk about you to the moon,
I would tell the moon as if they knew you,
I would say to them how I like it when your hair is combed back,
I like when you smile,
I like when you laugh,
I like how casual you were,
how you look so cool when you're playing your electric guitar,
how dashing you would look in those checkered plaid shirts,
how stunned you made me when you sang in the car casually, and you had no idea
how hard was I trying to hold myself back?
But back then, I talked to the moon about how you hurt me too.
How you had me crying for hours on pillows to sleep,
how you made me feel numb for the weeks,
how you ruined me with the mixed signals, push and pull
because today you treat me nicely as if we were something
and the next day, you put me back to the place after giving me hope.
It hurts.
It hurts to the point that I don't think I can love anymore.
That night I was so broken, sad, mad, lost and unhappy.
The moon disappeared and the cloudy night clouds company me, crying.
