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I wrote to you a good while back.
How come it took you a month to write back?
I promised myself this would end.
You never make an effort.
You don’t even pretend.
Just when I think I’m over you.
Your name pops up in conversation.
I shrug off questions time and time again.
I tell people we fought.
That’s why we no longer talk.
But that’s a lie.
It’s because you never try.
Just when I think I’m over you.
You send a message.
Like you somehow know.
You know I’m almost over you.
Then you drag me back.
I never stand a chance.
You’ll talk to me like there's nothing wrong.
You chat about how your day to day life is going.
You ask simply questions.
But your not concerned with my answers.
I promised myself I wouldn’t reply.
But I know I will.
I always do.
Then I sit and wait for days, weeks, months.
Until you reply.
I hate myself for it.
Do you know your reply makes my day?
If you did you’d probably wait longer to reply.
I wish I was with you.
But I’m glad I’m not.
Who knows what control you’d have over my heart then...
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