Scrapbooks.

Tell me something.
(Oh, no. I didn't say to tell me the TRUTH.)
But "is it me you're looking for?"
I can't help but compare
(or is it YOU doing the comparing?)
I'm sorry that sometimes it's hard for me to trust you.
The rumors
The gossip
The lies
I only listen to that,
but not YOU.
Not your lips, no.
And I ask myself why
I would avoid the TRUTH over YOU.
You seem to hang on so dearly to the past.
(Ever so dearly.)
Can you move on?
Is there "room for me in your heart"?
Sometimes I wonder.
When you looked in that room--
for that old pamphlet--,
Were you looking for Her?
I read those past entries
(call me "Detective").
I know what she was to you.
But what am I to you?

A farfetched stalker, that's for sure.


I'm pretty much jealous here. I would think about my boyfriend's past girlfriends and would believe that he still thinks about them (romantically, perhaps) from time to time (although this is utterly false--hence the "farfetched stalker" bit). I don't remember in particular who the girl-in-question is... There are too many to name. But don't mind my envy. Happens to the best of us.