Wishful Thinking

Sometimes, when I sit down in front of this and wonder where the time has gone and what sand pile I buried my watch in
I start not to care about you. Or anyone for that matter.
Sometimes, when I sit in front of this, I wonder if you're even still there. Looking at your screen in my dilated pupils waving your pasty, wrinkly hand in my face. Just waiting for me to wave back at the same time.
Sometimes, when I sit in front of you, you don't even look like you. Or talk like you for that matter. YOU sit there and act like a totally different person in hopes of people tapping you on the shoulder and saying, "Hey kid, you're alright."
Sometimes, when I sit on the bus in the morning, I can smell all the people's morning breath and my breath all alike. And for that one moment, all the strangers that I see every day.. well.. we're all connected.
Sometimes, when I think of you sitting next to me on the bus, I start to feel lightning bugs in my stomach like I did those other few times.
Sometimes, when I sit next to you and say "I love you" you don't even look at me anymore. Me and my freckles sitting there in silence waiting for you to brighten us up into happy sunshine's.
Sometimes, when I sit even in the same vicinity as you, I want to leave. Because this floodgate of memories erupts into a violent volcano that could strip everybody of their flesh in a millisecond.
Sometimes, when I sit in front of this, I wonder where you are. And if you will ever be near me.