Too late for you to look at me the way I looked at you, resentment dances with forgiving love I wish I knew.
Look back, beneath the overpass, of the sidewalk where I wept With unrequited romance that would kill me till I slept,
for in my dreams I’d get to feel your palm against my back— We’d sit on a museum bench near paintings to unpack.
So why do you just six years later— tell me that I’m pretty?
You know that I have someone else. I’m in a brand new city.
You try to send me to square one, to back where I still love you
I want to say I’m over it—new people are above you.
But pleading you to leave my heart will stay a futile chore;
I’ll never in my life know what it feels like to be yours.
