Little Things
She wonders about me so pitifully misinformed
But I'd rather she despise me than let her know the truth
A crazy decision; doesn't make sense and
I wonder what she thinks I'm doing
Can't even explain it to myself
Consequences, I'm missing so much of so little
Meaningless glances, mindless chatter
Turns to gossip, I listen intently and don't care about these people
Laughably solemn declarations of superiority
Such a modest arrogance
I must confess; somehow it's worth the struggle to bump into her
Wish she could see how she looks when she's sleeping
Sheets clutched over breath, a contented sigh
Then she could understand why
I watch her, take in every element of her
I like the tiny jumpers over old school shirts
Somewhere underneath she's still the same
The only girl I ever fell for
And when I try to get up, trip, stumble
I just keep falling
Bows and bracelets, no-one else exists
Such a girl as distinctive as this
She fills all my sketchbooks, notepads, journals
I can read her anytime
And then when she walks, puts out her arms for me, happily shuffles
Little things, not particularly attractive
There's not a part of her I could condemn
But forget it all.
I don't see her anymore.
Can't talk anymore.
And all the world is watching this fail; they all know.
Not one lets her in.
If she can't see, can't feel, can't sense it
Maybe that's supposed to be for the best
Or so I'm convincing myself.
You have friends, family, money.
You've got everything going for you.
So I'm happier than anyone
Wouldn't make sense any other way
And of course I want for nothing more
Days spent with kindly faces, good intentions, making memories
Hope she's jealous of this perfect life
She has no place in.
If I wasn't laughing I'd be crying.
Copyright © Sarah Jones | Year Posted 2006
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