Dear you,
I keep telling myself that you're right, that this is best, but it's not. You have some magnetic attraction that I can't seem to shake. Whenever you're around, butterflies flutter in the pit of my gut. I tell myself that one day, I'm going to wake up, feeling sadder than I ever have, and you're gonna be waiting outside my house with your mind set straight, knowing that you love me. It's not real though, it never will be, soon enough you'll be gone. You'll soon be a figment of my imagination, some boy I used to love, the one who stole my heart and never gave it back. Perhaps you're the reason I've become a bitter, empty man. I'll never find out. I'll never know. But, I will always care.
Sincerely,
Me.
