I bet this time of night you're still up. I bet you're tired from a long hard week. I bet you're sitting in your chair by the window, looking out at the city. And I bet sometimes you wonder about me. And I just want to tell you, it takes everything in me not to call you. And I wish I could run to you. And I hope you know every time I don't, I almost do. I bet you think I either moved on or hate you, because each time you reach out, there's no reply. I bet it never ever occurred to you that I can't say hello to you and risk another goodbye.
We made quite a mess. It's probably better this way. And I confess, in my dreams, you're touching my face and asking me if I want to try again with you. And I almost do.
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