Maybe.

Where do I even begin?
Begin to start.
Start this crazy thing I called love.
This crazy thing called love.
It's something I have learned about.
I have learned that sometimes it isn't what you wanted.
What you want is a fairytale.
Fairytales are things only children believe in.
Maybe that's what I am.
Maybe I am a child.
Maybe I am the imagination.
Maybe I am the fairytale.
The fairytale of heartbreak.
Disaster.
Broken hope.
Maybe my clouds are lined with black instead of silver.
Just maybe.

Maybe I am the one who needs to find someone who will change the lining on my clouds.
Maybe I am the one who needs to stop searching.
We all find our selves searching for something at one point in life.
I found myself searching for my fairytale.
Searching for it.
My fairytale.
You.

I thought I had found it.
It was the perfect first date.
The prefect "my official real date".
You promised me a million things.
Anything from teaching me to longboard to forever and always.
Now I am just a faded memory in the background.
My touch lingering on your skin.
The sound of my voice in your ear.
The picture of me in your hat.
It's all a memory.

Maybe one day we will cross paths.
Try things again.

Maybe it's my fairytale.
My wildest dream.

Maybe it was a short lesson we both needed to learn.
Maybe it will turn into a valuable lesson we will teach others.

Maybe it was a mistake to tell you those stupid three words.
To let you fall asleep on my couch.
Kiss my lips.
Lace my fingers in yours.
Play with my hair.
And touch my skin.
Maybe it was a mistake to hear those stupid three words from you.

Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Just.
Maybe.

Half of me misses the hell out of you.
Half of my hates you.
Half of me wonders what I did wrong.
Was it my crazy fucked up life?
My anxiety?
My depression?
My sassy comments you laughed at?
My thought process?
My clean slate?
What was it.
Half of me wants to laugh.
Half of me wants to cry.
Half of me wants to beg you to come back.
Half of me wants to walk away.

I guess that broken road of yours we talked so much of.
Maybe the broken part of it was me.
I guess I'll see you sometime at a y in the road.
Maybe I'll be one choice.
Standing.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Screaming your name.
You look at me with a blank stare.
And walk away.
Like you didn't even see me standing in the background.
Good bye.
Where do I begin?