So you thought about me last night.

I awoke to find your writing on my wall, and I nearly fell apart again. I wiped it out, quickly, but once you've read the words they're etched to your memory, you know. While I tried to make sense of your message I came to think about this song and how you used to say that I was wasting your time. But how could kisses be a waste of time? And why would you keep coming back for more?

It goes: 'Had me a trick and a kick', but we heard: 'Hand me a drink and a cake and your message', and it made perfect sense, because that's how we would do it back then. As if we were characters in a Hitchcock movie, and everything was black-and-white and simple. It's funny how we kept reading ourselves into songs, clinging to memories of happier times.

*

So what were you trying to tell me last night; that you have changed, or I? You used to say my honesty was mortifying, and now you tell me that's precisely what you need? You're all alone on a mountaintop somewhere, desperately calling out for reassurance. No, I will not come to your rescue this time, I'm no longer hanging on to your shade.

It's sad how we keep reading ourselves into songs, clinging to illusions of happier times. You thought you knew me then, but you failed to see me clearly. And if you could see me now, you clearly wouldn't have known me.

This time, you're wasting my time.