Days like This

I saw your new place for the first time today. There's a spare room, and if I had the opportunity I'd take it for you. You told me you missed me. You said I should come by more often. You kissed me like it was the first time.

And I told you to stop. I told you I'm seeing someone else.
Your expression for once was an open book. I could see for just that one split second, that you hurt. And for a tiny split second, I felt good. I could hurt you just as you  hurt me.

What I didn't say was how every second I spend flirting with other guys, every moment sitting across the table from the cute guy from the gas station or the quirky friend-of-a-friend, I sit there and imagine you. What would you think of him? What if you were here, what would you say?

How can I tell you that I want you back more than anything?

You said that whoever the lucky guy was, I'd make him the happiest he'll ever be.
All I can do is close my eyes to keep from screaming. If I'm the best thing that ever happened to you, why won't you just take me back?

I just hate how much my life revolves around you, and you're not even around. I can't wait to see you again.

I told you I missed you too.
What I didn't say is how I only go out with other guys to try and take my mind off of you. Unsuccessfully.

You're always telling me how perfect I am.

I'll never be perfect without you. Do you realize that it's been 6 months and 2 days since you broke up with me? Half a year, spent thinking of no one but you. That's not even counting the month we actually dated and the month before that we spent tiptoeing around our feelings, flirting and filled with excitement.

Everyone's probably asleep by now at your place, drunk or high or both, passed out on the couch.

You're probably still up, since working 3rd shift makes you nocturnal.
I wish I knew how to save myself.

From you. For you.

You walked me out to my car, down the three flights of stairs across the parking lot in Michigan December Weather. You never do that for anyone else.
Why me?

Why do you still insist on tearing me to shreds?

But at least for a little while, I'll smell like you.