I do, but I don't.
I want you to...but I'm grateful you don't.
I'm a dreamer, fantasizing that it could be great; it could be perfect.
We could try again, redo it the way I picture it in my mind.

But you're not here.
Once upon a time, you wanted to come home to me.
Now when you go home, you want to be by yourself.
I find myself asking you to see me.

And this is all so backwards. It should be the other way around.
It's all just a joke. Fantasies are better in your mind.
When they're truly executed, you're given disappointment.

I realize that I should practice patience, and wait until reality is better than fantasy, without even pushing it to be.
I love you, I love the parts of our past that were so bright.
But they're gone, and I'm having a hard time not looking at the once shiny gem we were.
Every time I try to clean sweep my room - my head, my life -
I find more traces of you. How sweet you were.
Whether it was real or not, you did things to try to make me happy.
The beauty of that sacrifice - I didn't realize it so much when it was happening,
but now that it's over, I can't let it go. Finally though, I think I've cleared most of it out.
I look around, and there are no pictures of us. None of your cards pinned to my wall, or wedged between books we shared.

I'm trying to say goodbye, but I'm afraid of the loneliness.