there are things they don't tell you,
like how it feels to find a bookmark you left waiting in a novel,
or what it's like to hear a stranger telling a joke you used to tell.
that feeling of anticipation when the doorbell rings,
even though i know you'll never be back,
my traitorous mind still wants to believe otherwise.

sometimes i wonder if you ever cared. even if you didn't, i loved you. i love the way you walked the halls, the way you spoke without thinking. you were free.
every time i go out, i dress up. i spend hours getting ready to go to the bank, the market. i always imagine that i'll run into you.
you'll say hello.
i'll act surprised, but it's all part of my plan.
i'll tell you you're looking good, and you'll say the same.
you offer to take me to get a drink, like old times.
i'll act hesitant, but you insist.
i'll finally give in, pretending like there's somewhere i'd rather be.
you'll be caught in my trap and you'll have no idea.
we go out.
we have a great time.
everything will be perfect again-
even though i know none of this will ever happen,
i can't believe it.
my mind will keep scheming until i see you again.
my mind is far too hopeful.
you probably don't remember who i am.

these are the things they don't tell you.

(credit for the first and last paragraphs go to 'tired of nothing')