50 faces. All blur away at the sight of one.
49 glasses of beer. I can't get you out of my head. I NEED to get you out of my head. Your eyes, lips, skin; they torment me— day and night. I think of you. And then I think again: I can't have you. The agony of having to see you with someone else, and then I see you again in my mind— it's painful.
48 smiles a day, hoping it would be enough to make you smile as well. Is it worth it? Yes. You smile (a smirk, maybe. I don't care. You look beautiful anyway…) to me.
47 wishes, one of which is to be with you (even for just a few moments), for you to love me back, and that wishes were true; although, I'd be very content with the first one.
46 missed opportunities, when you and I would cross paths. Just you and I. I would open my mouth to speak, but the words never seem to come. Over and over again, it happens. You think that maybe I'd have something to say now; maybe the 47'th time is the charm. But the words just never come.
45 dreams. When I would wake up in the morning, thinking that you were mine, but you were not.
44 almost's. If only.
43 petals, …she loves me not. Of course she doesn't. How could I have been so stupid as to think that she did? Maybe because every time I pick a flower and play that petty game, I have a little wishful thinking that somehow, it would come out differently.
42 promises. I will be here. I will stay. I will watch over you. I will protect you. I will take care of you. I will…I will…I will…I will love you.
41 BROKEN promises. That last one, I will always keep.
40 cups of coffee and tea. Forty conversations; some useful, some not so useful, all worthwhile.
39 poems. Thirty-eight about you, one about you and I.
38 chess games. When we would sit across each other; and when sometimes, your hand would graze mine.
37 trips to the CD store. I watch you from the other isle, picking CD's I didn't think you listened to. There was something about your mysterious air that made me watch you intently. And sometimes, even, when I was lucky, I would catch you quietly singing to the song. You have a nice voice.
36 books. Many, I've borrowed from you, and occasionally, you'd borrow from me. Sometimes, even, we talk a while. But only just a while.
35 songs. (Your voice is) Softer than an angel's whisper, but as beautiful as nightingale; how I long to see my words slip from your lips. (Beautiful.)
34 Wins. I'd trade it all away for one.
33 Losses. It is never a matter of "in what", or "to what". It is always just a "to whom".
32 glances. Were you looking at me? When our eyes would meet for a split second (sweeter than that of lips) and suddenly turn away in shame. Cause I was looking at you.
31 bruises. Men are territorial, men are savages, men are BEASTS, men break your heart (but I would never). If only you saw him as I did.
30 wounds. You tended them with such care. I knew you felt guilty…don't. I'd do it all again for you.
29 nights. This could be the start of something new. If only I could have wished that we could stay that way forever, so that final night wouldn't end up as just another memory. It feels so right to be here with you.
28 mornings. And then, it ended up as just another memory.
27 afternoons. The dim light of the sunset accented every curve, every edge, and every small detail of your face. An orange crescent lined your jaw as you turned to face me with a smirk.
26 rainy days. The spatter of every drop on the window; the rumbling of the heavy clouds colliding with each other; and the sound of my fingers running against the moist windows echoed as I watched you comfortably warm yourself against his body.
25 sunny days. Would I dare rise and shine to another beautiful day of contempt and regret?
24 It's. Pets, weaponry, stuffed animals, Cd's, water balloons...The things we talk about sometimes come out so randomly that we don't even know why we talk about them. Maybe we talk about them because there's some distant reason that neither one of us can understand. Or maybe we just enjoy each other's company. Either is good with me.
23 Him's. Will you ever exhaust your stories about him? In every story you tell me about his actions, his personality, I feel a hint of jealousy; because I know that through all the criticism and sarcasm in your voice, there is a hint of something more sentimental, something affectionate.
22 Her's. (I should've told you) It's only just for show. All I want is to give you a sense of what you give me.
21 You's. This is exactly why I know so much about you. This is exactly why you're my best friend. If only I could tell you what I really thought about you, then everything would be easier for both of us, wouldn't it? No more fooling around with the wrong people, just us.
20 I's. And this is exactly why you know so much about me. Not everything, though. Oh no, not everything. When can I tell you?
19 We's. It sounds nice, huh? Maybe we could try saying it a little more.
18 Goodbyes. (will you remember me?) Painful to say, even worse to hear.
17 Hellos. (will I ever see you again?) If only I could say it one more time.
16 Phone calls. The sound of your voice seemed so familiar, yet so indisputably distant. I never knew there would ever come a time when I was left only trying to remember how you looked..
15 minutes. He came back, just as I put down that phone. He found out. He wanted you. You were his. All his
14 blood drops on my hand. I'm sorry. I had to. I had to.
13 broken bones. Not mine. No, not mine. I had to.
12 sorry's. For the times I've hurt you (and hurt FOR you) , and for the many times I've hurt myself. For the many broken promises and for that one kept promise. Forgive me. I had to.
11 people. They were there, I was there, two CHILDREN were there. Goodness, two children watched as that little black box sunk into the earth. They threw him paper roses, fake, red, paper roses. Guilt? No. I had to.
10 reasons. I do not have to explain them all. One, surely, is you. I had to.
9 days passed. I did not hear from you for a while. Are you angry with me? Please don't be. I had to.
8 messages. You found out.
7 hours. You were coming back. Not for me, I'm sure (though I hoped not).
6 single roses, prepared to give them to you. Each representing the years we have spent away from each other; some withered, some dead, all yours.
5 steps closer. I saw you. I entangled your fingers in mine. I lift your chin so you can face me; I look into your eyes. I lean in. You were mine, for now.
4 seconds (forever, to me):You tilted your head slightly to the side, letting my lips touch yours. Your lips felt so tender, so soft, against mine. You pull back.
3 words slip out of my lips without reason, even I did not anticipate: "I love you". (You love him.) I really do. (You really do.) Cliché…sincere? I whisper again (louder, this time), "I love you."
2 teardrops fall from your eyes almost immediately. You wipe them away, and then you shake your head. 2 words come out of your lips "I'm sorry."
1 heart breaks. Tell me, is it mine or yours?
o (Will you be?) the music in me? o
Author's Note: this was originally 100, but then there were too many, so I shortened it. Teehee.