I thought I had you, in the palm of my hand. Little did I know, I was wrong. You aren’t bad, you were the victim. Here I am, everyday thinking about the things we did, the things we would talk about. I replay it over and over again. I’m here sitting down thinking what I did wrong. I know you don’t care, you probably don’t think about me at all. I always say maybe a little part of is. Maybe one day we can talk as friends as if nothing happen.









