I wanted to tell you how I felt,
I wanted to be held the way you held her,
Because I knew that the way you kept looking at me, showed you wanted to hold me that way, too.

But why would you?
You had her, and where she had looks and fashion,
I only had books and television. She had popularity and I had a reputation. One that I had to maintain.

I'm the tom boy, and you're the bad boy.
Where I get into fist fights and argue, you smoke and mock.
You two were the star couple, because with her icy attitude and your rough look, you two were a pair made in hell.

I knew that you didn't love her,
I also knew she didn't love you, you just made her look better,
But you never left her, and she never left you. You two never left the other and it didn't make sense.

So on that night, 
When you kissed me, why exactly did you do it?
Did you want to feel something? Did you want to see if what I felt was real? Because, it is. It's very real.

That night, I wanted you,
My stubborn attitude, came crumbling down when your lips met mine.
And that night, you just held me, and whispered such lovely things, things of love and care that made me feel so much more.

But when morning came,
You were nowhere to be found, and my room was vacant,
School was loud and busy, but I spotted you with her, your arm swung loosely around her thin waist and lips curled slightly.

You were with her still.
Seeing me, in shock, you stared with a blank expression,
As if last night meant nothing. To prove that it meant nothing, you turned her to you and pressed her against your body.

All the while,
You kept your eyes on me, making me watch as you kissed her,
All the while, my heart broke into pieces as you turned away from me, while pulling her with you, her hand in yours.

There was really no point in telling you how I felt, or feel.
Because you knew. You'd always knew. And you cared, but obviously not enough to stay with me.
To be there when I woke up.
Or to atleast explain why you weren't there.