I found your writing on the internet, it was by mistake.
I didn't go looking for trouble this time, but it found me anyways.
(I didn't know you used this website anymore.)
I knew it was you the minute I starting reading the words.
It was your song, your melody, spun into a thousand nightmares.
You confessed your love to her, but I knew that already.
It wasn't to hard to figure it out, you have to learn to act better.
(I hate knowing when I'm not suppose to. I don't want to know.)
Ash reviewed you, but I think she thought you were a boy.
She's usually against that sort of thing, I think.
You kept saying that she reminded you or some other girl
and I can't help wondering if that girl is me.
(I'm shivering, but it's not cold. I can't stop.)
I don't know what to do any more. I'm going to leave you on your own, I guess.
I tried to talk so many times, but you just pushed me away.
(Why didn't you open up to me? I hate this silence.)
I'm trying not to read your poetry again, but it's drawing me to it.
They're calling my name, and I can't help picking out the details.
That one's about me, that one's about her.
That one's when you kissed me and I tried to get you to stop.
I didn't like, and I made sure you knew it. I guess you still held on to that hope.
I don't have anything against it, I just wasn't made that way.
(I really try to block things like that out of my mind.)
I didn't kiss back, it was your imagination. I'm sorry.
(I'm still shivering. Shaking. I think I'm going to cry.)
I think I'm starting to understand things, but there's no way to say yes.
I'm really confused.