I read your words again and again to be sure I know what each little line means
thinking "oh is that me?''
sometimes I see, always looking too deep
so as I sat and read i thought back to our time together
i found myself smiling again at the memories
then that smile starting to melt
because we wont have memories like that anymore and its all because of me
imagine if we hadn't met
back in sixth grade and that dream
now it just seems that dream was a metaphor
but in this story we both die in the end
so as i cry over you as youre in school, not thinking of me
its okay
no really it is
i must grow up now and stop rereading your old stories
time to turn the page and start a new day
...
maybe ill do it tomorrow instead
