I think I just realized that I am in mourning over a life that never existed. A happiness that I dreamed about and one that will never be real. So here’s to that life…
I don’t want to get over you.I guess I could take
a sleeping pill and sleep at will and not have to
go through what I go through. I guess I should take
Prozac, right, and just smile all night at somebody new,
Somebody not too bright but sweet and kind who would
try to get you off my mind. I could leave this agony behind
which is just what I’d do if I wanted to, but I don’t
want to get over you cause I don’t want to get over love.
I could listen to my therapist, pretend you don’t exist
and not have to dream of what I dream of; I could listen
to all my friends and go out again and pretend it’s enough,
or I could make a career of being blue–I could dress
in black and read Camus, smoke clove cigarettes and drink
vermouth like I was 17 that would be a scream but I
don’t want to get over you.