I was hoping you’d wake up,
"Man, she was a good girl."
"Man, I needed her."
The opposite of what you left me feeling.
Maybe I didn’t want to feel I was needed, but that maybe just maybe, that I was enough. I didn’t want those beautiful brown eyes to tell me that I was needed, but that I was enough to be wanted. To be thought of on a night of whiskey and a cheap cigar. To be wanted on a quiet drive, to drive you a little crazy, and make you laugh at the same time.
I was hoping that I wasn’t too much, not too little, but just enough to last in your subconscious as you drift to sleep. Or a phone call, when the world is falling to pieces. I hoped you knew I’d still be that girl. Not the kind, you have come to put me as.
Not worth it.
Or simply, the past.