Maybe one day when my phone buzzes a new message I'll stop wishing in that stupid teen girl way that it was you confessing you're undying love for me. Or I'll even just stop wishing it was you.
Maybe one day after wasting away hour after hour together just enjoying each other's company, I'll stop wishing that when you left you would kiss me goodbye. Or I'll just stop wishing you wouldn't leave.
Maybe one day when you tell me you're going out with your mates I'll stop wishing I'll get a drunk call or text from you, telling me something you didn't have the courage to fully sober. Or I'll just stop wishing you're not doing that to someone else.
Maybe one day I'll get up the courage to kiss you and tell you how I feel, and you won't push me away and it will be the start of something wonderful. Or maybe I'll stay in this misery spineless and alone.
Maybe one day, I'll realise I am above all this pathetic pining and wishing and hoping against hope, maybe one day I'll realise you haven't done all these things because you don't want to. The fantasy inside my head it just that, a fantasy, a stupid, stupid fantasy that I can't seem to escape from.
Maybe one day I'll stop trying to figure out what's wrong with me, why you don't like me and wishing that I was just more than I am.
Maybe one day, I'll realise it's not me that has the problem, but it's not you either, it's us. We are the problem, we don't work. We're friends and that's fine.
Maybe one day, I'll let you go.