I want her to be my friend so bad. I can see her next to me. Breathing. "Dude" she say's to me, "What's up? Why you staring at me like that?" I realized I'm gawking. She likes it. I know. I have this thing that she likes. I make her feel beautiful from the inside out. It's because she's gorgeous. It has nothing to do with her mind either. It's her face. I love her and I want her in my life.
"What?" she screams, making me realize that yet again I'm staring at her. She's gorgeous. I gather up enough courage to ask her "how long have we known each other?" She didn't have to think long. "Pfft! honey, we met that night, while you were working. You came home and wrote about me!" I was surprised to hear that she read back to that post. "What'd I say about you?"
The fact is I was with someone else that night we first met. I was in love with another girl while we were together. I still love her now, except I don't love her like I loved you. She wasn't good for me. Well, neither were you. That's why we're just going to be friends. I'm good for you though.
"Stop it!" she say's sour facing me, looking miserable. "I know what you're thinking!" she tells me, looking at me innocently. "You're thinking you love me!" it's a taunt. "You know' I love you." I tell her, "and yes baby I am thinking about how much I love you." I didn't want you to know that I was thinking about someone else.
I knew you were seeing him. I read through your texts. I looked over your messages while you were in the bathroom one of the first days I felt the urge. I didn't care about you after that. "You're face is beautiful baby, I love your legs." I remember telling you that, I just wished I could have liked your feet. I got over the fact that you were cheating on me easily. "i don't want to ever lose you!" was the first thing I said to you after I read those messages. You had sent him pictures of yourself naked. You slept with him, than you slept with me. I didn't want to lose you. I was so alone and in love with a woman that crushed me. You were just right.
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