Maybe this is just what's best.
To not write anything about you.
I thought by writing you down would help me to get you out of my system. When it's just useless.
I just keep thinking about you.
The thought that I inhibit your time when you must have wanted it to have been spent with someone else, made me small. To be such an intruder. But grant me just this one thing I need to write. Our conversation is what I treasured most. And hearing your thoughts and to be able to comfort you if I really was able to. They were all my gains.
Look at me being foolish even now. I just kept writing about you.
