If things were different

I'm still an asshole.
I'm still a loser playing with matches,
Counting the stars.
Playing with fire.
Blowing out dreams,
Blowing out wishes.
Crying on buses
As if anyone could really hear.
As if anyone could really see.

And he never really played along with me
I realised it was all in my dreams.
And the truth lies beneath the sheets
Of paper. It lies beneath hands held,
and I will always remember the softness
Of his breath on my ear.

© Natasha Lim