i'm not sorry for kicking you out last night.
i was angry. i was hurt.
this weekend i felt like your responsibility. your burden. your weekly chore. i don't want to be a "to-do" you pencil in on saturday, a tentative appointment allowed to be shifted, interrupted. i want to know our time is sacred enough to you that you don't entertain the idea of anyone-else-ness. only you-and-me-ness.
i don't want to be forgotten... not again.
i don't want to wait for a phone call that never comes.
i don't want to feel like second place.
i want to be your everyday.
«i'm still waiting for
you to be the one i'm waitin for
something tells me that this is going to make sense
something tells me it's going to take patience
something tells me that this will all work out in the end...»