Sometimes I wish you weren't with her. Sometimes I wish I could put myself first and not hide my feelings, not hide my lust for you. Sometimes I wish I could pull you in and show you how much you mean to me with a kiss, sometimes I wish I could ACTUALLY tell you EVERYTHING with that one kiss, everything I've done and everything I am and everything I feel about you and this situation.
You say you understand but you don't.
Sometimes I almost wish you had never met her because I wish that maybe somehow you had thought about asking me out.
Maybe it was the stars or maybe it was just us, who knows why it came out this way.
Time's passed since and I know so much about you, but everyday I want to know more. I love getting a text from you late at night, knowing that despite already having a girl in your life, you still want to get to know me. I love having our deep conversations and sharing our life's stories in a way that feels so natural, so comfortable. I can say anything to you and you don't run away in fear or disgust.
I love the fact that you want to get closer to me and that I mean so much to you. I love the fact that I'm not completely ignored by you and we somehow managed to start talking again, despite our drifting apart.
But you don't realize how much you meant to me. Slowly but surely I'm forcing myself to fall out of love with you and frankly, I don't think I want to let go of loving you just yet. You're the only chance I've had at actually feeling love and I don't even have you, do I?
Sometimes I wish I could taste your lips, maybe just once is all I would need to be able to tell once and for all how I really feel about you and how I'll feel about you in 10 years from now.
I feel like a single kiss could resolve these emotions. But I'm afraid you either don't love me like I love you or you hide it for your and her own good.
Most of all, I'm afraid of growing up and seeing you get married to someone that's so perfect for you and silently watching from the background because I'll never find someone as perfectly imperfect as you have been to me.
Or maybe I'm afraid of finding someone better.