If I was your girlfriend I would wax your eyebrow into two. I would make you shower daily and make you change your clothes too. I would pick you out a cologne so I could recognize your scent. I would make you move out of your parents’ basement, and pay your own rent.
If I was your girlfriend, I would inform you that sepia tone is through. Nobody wants to see 800 “old fashioned”, self-portrait profile pictures of you. I would tell you to stop quoting others, because your thoughts are as good as theirs. If van Gogh had only painted Da Vinci, he might have never cut off his ear.
If I was your girlfriend, I would tell you to make a move. I would tell you that cleverly slipping my name into lyrics wasn’t actually enough to prove. I would tell you that you were right when you suspected the hidden meaning of the song I sent to you. You were right, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t right of me to say I’d only sent it to cheer you up (you had the flu).
I am not your girlfriend for many of the same reasons stated above. Your hair was greasy, your eyebrows too few; your self-portraits too serious, and your confidence too new. It didn’t match my fairytale to be the one to take the initiative. It didn’t match my fairytale to have to coax, and prod, and tease to reassure you that I was there. You never spoke to me first. You didn’t trust my affection for you, and then I didn’t either. You were just a boy with a guitar with songs that spoke for you. But I wish you had actually spoken those words. I wish you’d looked at me and said “Hey, You! I really like you!”
I was the one who said we couldn’t talk anymore. I could see where we were headed, and I could hear the whispers of your friends. I knew I couldn’t give you what you wanted, so I cut it short. I miss talking to you. I miss daydreaming about you. Though, I don’t miss your brother’s condescending looks, and his idea that I was corrupting you.
I knew I had to hurt you, but I tried to do it in the quickest and gentlest way possible. I knew I couldn’t linger - as much as I wanted to. I hope you don’t resent me. I pray you saw my purpose. For what it’s worth, I still carry with me the feeling from that night with the fireworks while we listened to Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s “What a Wonderful World” with one earbud in my ear, and the other one in yours.