I keep revisiting this fantasy
I have of us two strangers
It’s nothing to be ashamed of
Yet it’s a shame that
This train of thought
Had reached its final destination
Before you could even say it was a journey
No, it was a beautiful short film
And the credits rolled sooner
Reality caught up quicker
Than my wishful thinking could form
Into something substantial
No sequel planned
No strings attached
The realisation
That I’ve just been a stepping stone
On your way to happiness
Something in the corner of the eye
A scratch on the surface
Hurts as much as the words never said
You’ll never invite me in
I’ll never know what’s inside
Your room, your head, your life
This seed will never bloom
It will never see the light
I will never feel your touch
On the couch, on the floor, against the wall
I’m left imagining what you wore
Beneath that flower dress of yours
The curves, the skin, the scars
Undressing you with blinded eyes
My mind embraces the thought
Of you, of me, of us
But I’ll never know what’s inside
Your room, your head, your life
Your room, your head, your life