And somehow I can't believe it. After all your silent no's it's still your face I see when I'm asleep. I still dream of dimples and dirty blond curls, I still see smiles out of the corner of my eye, I can still feel every single time your hand has ever touched mine. I'm still close to crying when I think "what if..."
I don't know what I could have done different. It's like one of those official secrets that everyone knows but me. I could have been perfect and I would still have been in love with you and you still wouldn't have been in love with me. I could have been everything and you'd still not want me. But I'm just me, small and easily forgotten, I'm still one of those whose name was blacklisted from parties, I'm still one of those you don't talk about. Unless if it's a joke.
I miss our jokes. I miss hoping to catch you on the way home, I miss having legitimate dreams of a silent talk with you. I suppose it's something I'll be missing always.