When did I cross that line between simplicity and complication?

Did I sleep through that day?

When did I allow myself to be caught up in this charade of

"I love you" and "If only?"

What happens if I decide I'd rather have

"You're not my type" or "Let's just be friends."

Leaving me where, exactly?

Hovering somewhere between

"The one that got away"

and

"A girl you used to know."

 

Well, fuck that.

I don't want to spend my life dwelling

on "What could have been"

when it's hard enough to concentrate on "Right now."

I refuse to let myself waste another night

missing the eyes I've never stared into and

the touch I've only dreamed about.

I will not subject myself to this torture,

this pseudo-masochism,

for even one more line.

So I'm finished with this.

I'm finished with you.