I still think you're the one, an unrequited love.
Dance circles through my dreams, make me feel so seventeen.
Even I wouldn't ask me.
Even I wouldn't ask me to be a part of your perfect life.
To be a fly that laps the sweat off of the back of your neck.
The rock you clench in your fist; a keepsake from your time out west in Colorado.
When you were sixteen, 900 miles with your family. Did you think about me?
Hopeless, rejected bathetic.
Did you forget about me?