I'll call her baby cause I still can't have her. Now I'm thinkin, I never will. She's all wrapped up in years and naturally sinking beliefs that he's the one, just cause he's stuck around for so long.
I've been here too, just not as long, and never late enough to hold her sleepy hand.
We've curled up on the couch before, like kids at a sleepover. Giggling, cause everyone else was already asleep, like we had a secret. She smiles all the time, too much maybe, that it folds my rationale over itself until I can't even see it anymore and I almost forget that she's already in love. At least I think she is.
It's not right to feel the way I feel about her. Supposedly. And I see how stupid she can be, and how if we were together, she would probably ignore me.
But I watch her in the dark, and I can't stop singing, and she can't stop singing, and when we get enough courage to look at eachother, we don't even know what to do. And at least I have that.