The Us That Never Was

You make me want to believe in US.

When I say us it’s the fragmented memories replaying over and over in my head, edited scenes that makes me fall for you. Perhaps I was more in love with the image of you than the reality of us. You were what I wanted, you were what I needed. Reality bites. That’s what they say anyway and maybe this is true. Figuratively speaking, you bit me when she came along, you bit me when you said she had a chance, you bit me when I thought I had a chance and the most painful of all was the bite you gave me when you acted like I never loved you.

I’m still here, still waiting for more. I understand that somewhere down the road I have to stop waiting for you that you will never see me as someone who could be more with you. It hurts that I can’t be the one to give you what you want, but would it hurt you to consider that I might be the one you need?

I’m stuck in this dome of illusion. Dreaming of your hands wrapped around me whispering sweet nothing as we constantly lie about our state. It hurts and I don’t think you know that it’s hurting me. I don’t think that you know how you can affect my day. I don’t think you know how important you are and that’s the problem, I don’t think.

There’s no us. There will never be us. And I don’t know how much longer I need to lie to myself to be able to believe it someday. So this is the us that was always just you and me.

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