I wonder if you think of me in the way I think of you.
I wonder if you replay the past like I’d always do.
I wonder if you wait for my texts like I’d always waited for yours everynight.
I know so well I like you, I’d hope you also might.
I wonder if you save my messages and read them when you’re bored.
I wonder if you get butterflies whenever you hear my voice.
I wonder if you see in my eyes the fondness I have for you.
Its funny how I imagine this, when I know these things will never be true.
I realize you’ll never think of me in the way I think of you.
You don’t remember the past or treasure the memory of me and you.
You don’t wait at all for my text like I wait for yours.
To you, I’m nobody, just a temporary friend of yours.
You don’t save my messages. You’re to busy to be bored.
Of course, there aren’t butterflies whenever you hear my voice.
I still don’t know whether you know bout’ what I feel for you.
But, it’s painful this reality, because these things are true.