I wonder what you are doing.
To me, this is quite a repetitive thought.
I wonder if you're thinking about me,
I wonder if you're not.
I suppose you're getting ready for bed,
maybe combing out your hair.
Perhaps you're looking up at the stars,
realizing you and I are beyond repair.
Do you ever think about me?
I mean, don't you ever wonder
if things had played about differently?
Maybe those thoughts are pushed under.
Am I ever in your dreams?
I will admit, you are in mine.
We sit, and sing, and laugh.
Why, those are the sweetest kind.
Do you think about me,
the way I think about you?
Does the thought of me make you smile,
while also making you blue?
Do you ever wish you could hold me,
singing into my ear?
Do you wish you could sit by me,
saying "I'll always be here"?
Do you wish we could be together,
running, hand in hand?
Laughing while driving up the coast;
getting away without a plan.
Do you wish we could sit by a fire
together, side by side;
that you could hold me close,
and sing me lullabies?
Because I know I've spent
countless nights thinking these thoughts.
Breathing in ideas till I was sick,
my stomach tied in knots.
I've wasted away time,
sitting with passing hours,
wondering if the day will come
when we can call something ours.
I wonder what you're doing,
maybe thinking of missed memories.
I hope you're looking up at the stars.
I hope you're thinking about me.
c.d.
a/n: this was rather cathartic.
YOU ARE READING
1:46 a.m.
PoetryA collection of poems, most written at extremely late, or should I say extremely early, times of the day, when my mind can truly bleed its thoughts onto paper.
