What Do You Think Of When You Think Of Me?

Do you think about me each night as you’re fading into your dreams or am I your shooting star, only skimming your thoughts on special occasions? Do you hold yourself back from texting me, the urge growing stronger as you sip on your whiskey, or have I heard nothing but silence because you’ve genuinly forgotten about me, couldn’t care less about how I am and what I’ve done with my life?

Am I the girl that got away? The one that you mention to your friends during late night ramblings at the bar? The one that you secretly compare every woman to, even when her beauty outweighs mine? The one that you wish you could run back to, so you could erase all of the heartbreaking memories and make room for fresh ones?

Or am I the bitch that broke your heart? The girl that encouraged you to drink a little more and to care a little less? The girl that made you give up your search for love, because you no longer believe it exists? The girl that you’re never going to forgive, no matter how much time passes and how much distance comes between us?

Or am I the star of your fantasies? The girl that you think about regularly, but only when you’re lonely? Only when you want to pluck a pretty memory out of the depths of your mind to touch yourself to? Can you recall the way my body felt against your chest, but have forgotten the sound of my laugh and the pronunciation of my name? Am I just a piece of pornography to you, a fantasy that you rewind when you have nothing better to watch?

Or am I no one? Not a thought in your head? Not a spec on your radar? Have you completely forgotten about my existence, because I never meant anything to you in the first place? If you saw me in public, would you look right past me without recognizing the shade of my hair, the curve of my waist? Am I considered a stranger in your eyes?

I want to know what runs through your mind when you hear my name. I want to know how you feel when you see something that reminds you of me–if you’re ever reminded of me. I want to know if I’ve been foolish for missing you or if we’re on the same page. I want to know what I once meant to you and what I mean to you now, because you were never brave enough to tell me. And because I never stopped trying to figure it out.