Lovebug
11/11/2007 03:55 a.m.
Why is it that after all you've done to me,
After all we've shared and all you've thrown away,
That when I see your aching pain,
My first instinct is to run to your aide
And dress your wounds?

Why is it that I can't expel thoughts of you from this
Scatterbrainedtornrotteninnocentdeadlyconfused head?

The minute I'm sure I've surpassed
These lingering lovestings
Your bees sworm my heartsoulmind
And I'm back to square one.

Oh perhaps I just miss the distraction
The oh so beautiful distraction from myself.




But I can't help but wonder if you wonder these things too.
If you think of me.
Every now and again.
A certain song.
Breeze.
Restaurant.
Lovesting.



You'd be the worst thing for me.
Yet I can't help but remember the way you made me feel.