i could say i’ve been counting the minutes.
i could say i’ve thought about you a hundred times
but in reality i would go crazy trying to keep count of all the times my mind wanders to your face.
i would say cliche, romantic things if that’s what you wanted
but that’s not really who i am.
i tell it like it is.
i miss you.
i’ve been thinking about you.
no numbers, no estimations.
this is not math class.
i try to speak what’s on my mind and sometimes i find myself whispering your name.
even after you’ve left and gone home i can hear your voice,
don’t miss me too much, okay?
like it was something that might not happen.
as soon as your foot rested heavy on the gas,
and your car fell out of my eye’s reach,
i missed you.
i’ve been missing you for two hundred and seventy one minutes
and i know i said i wasn’t counting,
but i’m pretty good at math even though i can’t figure out what a 75 percent discount is as fast as you can.
you’re really fucking good at that.
just like you’re good at making me miss you.
i didn’t lie when i told you,
i’ll try my best.
but sometimes my best doesn’t cut it.
like when i try my best in basketball but still miss every shot.
like when i try my best to run fast but still never come in first.
i’m trying my best not to miss you,
things like that are out of my control.