These cigarettes aren't really doing the trick anymore. I keep wishing on 11:11, thinking that maybe something will change. I still haven't caught my breath since the last time you stole it. I can't help but wonder if this mess is eating me alive. Every morning I wake up and find that a little more of me has gone transparent. It's almost as if I'm fading from this hell as fast as I'm fading from your memory. I keep trying to understand what you say and the way you move. My mind is screaming that I'm over you, but I still crumble every time we talk. If I would have taken that one kiss six months ago, the room would have been glowing. We would have been glowing. Nothing up to this point would have been any different, but I would have had the satisfaction of knowing how true those lips of yours are. I'm curious as to if you got the same big rush when I went in for a hug and our cheeks brushed. I understand that I mailed you my heart in an envelope sealed with a kiss, but I would appreciate it if you could send it back. Time is turning along with the seasons, and baby, summer was so yesterday. For someone who is so focused on her, you seem to want to hold onto things a little too long. I'm tempted to leave these words unfinished, but I don't think it's for the best. I can't make you take my belongings off of your stereo where they serve no other purpose than to collect dust. But I hope you would have the decency to do so regardless. Until then, I'll keep wishing on 11:11. After all, patience is a virtue.
