It's like we never talk,
And when we do...
It's me that says everything to you,
Nothing at all, is what it amounts to.
How is it that I rarely see you,
But spend countless hours with you,
The images of you flashing in my head,
The ones that make me toss around in my bed.
I have one image that I hate the most,
It's of you and me and we're on the coast,
But then you're not actually there, I'm all alone
I'm just sifting through our past, searching for home.
That home that I only had with you,
That comfort and security that I never knew,
And I guess I'm young, they say it wasn't true love,
But... feeling content with you was good enough.














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