westid

maybe i’m wrong about you, or maybe you do. every situation about it that my mind has already gone through – and then i see you again, only for a moment but for just as much the same thoughts ensue. i don’t get mad about it though, well maybe for a minute, but it’s only at myself. because what if i’m just imagining these things – but you look like you see inside when you look at me, and usually that’s difficult for anyone to really see

why should i go after you? isn’t there this other thing with that other person i’m supposed to give a shit about. the problem is it means nowt but it might do if that’s part of the equation, but i see you left holding the bag in every situation

i don’t grandiose myself such that you ought to come to me otherwise i wouldn’t deserve to get to know you – the real you, the goddess in between, not the hapless sidekick i’ve seen a lesser man try to diminish you into. you’re so much higher than all of that, you could probably fly. you definitely are fly, and i mean that end-to-endwise top of the podium atand head and shoulders above you’re lookin down through the clouds in the sky

sometimes i forget myself and i just wonder to myself “why?” it’s not like i ever got a real chance to even speak to you, i just wouldn’t know where to start, or when, or how hard i wouldn’t look like i’m about to try