If wishes were robot unicorns that collected rainbow butterflies and exploded stars...
I wish I were someone else.
Or I wish you were someone else.
Or I wish we were somewhere else together.
But more than that, I wish that we were a we.
I wish when you saw me your world would stutter for just a moment and your heart would stumble just a little, and perhaps it would fall into mine.
I wish when I saw you my world would skip past you and my heart would stay upright, refusing to reach for yours.
I wish that I could stop wishing altogether because wishing leads to heartbreak and I've run out of duct tape to piece it back together. And I was never really good at puzzles anyway. Perhaps you'd like to give it a try. I think I might like that game if we could play it together.
I wish that I weren't leaving and that you weren't staying and that there'd be time enough for you to even wonder if you and I could fit into the same sentence, let alone into two little letters. Us. Or We. But right now it's just me. And you. Separate.
I wish I could forget you, especially at night when all I do is think of you, and dreams and wishes converge into hope that hovers around my pillow at night. It vanishes with the sunrise but by then the damage is done.
And then I'm wishing that you wanted me or that I didn't want you or that we were anywhere together.
And I wish that I were someone else.
Or I wish you were someone else.
Or I wish we were somewhere else together.
But more than that, I wish that we were a we.
I wish when you saw me your world would stutter for just a moment and your heart would stumble just a little, and perhaps it would fall into mine.
I wish when I saw you my world would skip past you and my heart would stay upright, refusing to reach for yours.
I wish that I could stop wishing altogether because wishing leads to heartbreak and I've run out of duct tape to piece it back together. And I was never really good at puzzles anyway. Perhaps you'd like to give it a try. I think I might like that game if we could play it together.
I wish that I weren't leaving and that you weren't staying and that there'd be time enough for you to even wonder if you and I could fit into the same sentence, let alone into two little letters. Us. Or We. But right now it's just me. And you. Separate.
I wish I could forget you, especially at night when all I do is think of you, and dreams and wishes converge into hope that hovers around my pillow at night. It vanishes with the sunrise but by then the damage is done.
And then I'm wishing that you wanted me or that I didn't want you or that we were anywhere together.
And I wish that I were someone else.