Bue

No one is you and I keep looking for you in things that aren’t even there.
No one is you and I keep creating hopes from your past words and making them feel like you recently said them to me.
No one is you and I keep thinking that you’ll want me even though you’ve made it clear that you don’t.

I’ve said things to you that I’ve said to millions of other people and I’ve met people like you but at the same time, you differ from them and I can’t quite put a name on it.

I’m not inlove with you, and sometimes I see similar signs that I portrayed in the past with an obsession I had with that person for 4 to 5 years with you and sometimes I’m I confuse reality and fantasy with you.

You are not mine, but I keep calling you my boy, my bue, mine. You are not my boy, not mins, but you are my bue and you hold a bigger place in my heart and take up more space in my head and consume more of my body than most people.

No one is you and I keep looking for someone to be you because I can’t have you.

No one makes me feel how you make me feel

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