It was just a meal between friends, or that’s what I convinced myself it was. The butterflies in my stomach told the real story. I was going to see you, my “if only”, my “I wish”.
We sat down to the table across from each other, we talked, we laughed, just like friends do. But while you smiled I was bleeding inside. Every look you gave me was like a shot to the heart, and it cried why.
Why is this so easy, but yet so hard?
Why do I torture myself this way?
Why am I such a fool?