Who Are You?

It's kinda weird, I keep you in my mind with no intention to constantly think about you. Yet that's all what I do.

I keep writing about you in the thought of letting the whole world know. Yet I keep writing, re-writing and tearing it out of the book and even hide it from you.

I'm selfish when it comes to you, I'm protective about you. Yet I couldn't save you from you.

For you, I could paint the whole world a shade of blue, engulf myself in the same shade as you. Yet, yet there's nothing that I could do.

It's strange, I have almost a book about you. Living inside my head, yet no pages in my hands.

Sometimes, it gets hard to even decide whether you were real or just a fragment of imagination growing inside. Yet, I live vicariously through the songs of you, the words you say and things you do.

Some days, I just want to end up like you. Sometimes, I just want to turn into another you. Someone, I knew.

You said, I'd forget about you once you're gone. But no matter what, whether or not I'm alone, you're the only thought in my thoughts.

I feel you catching glimpses of me, wandering around me like a ghost. But then, I think again. Coldness? Couldn't be ya.

In the end, there's only one question,

Who are you?

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