Distant
I think he prefers me when I’m far away. Faded like an old photograph. Unavailable, like the old caller ID message. Making you wonder “who is that?” It’s the mystery. When I’m present, he ignores me, cuts me off - hush - be small.
In college people called me the mystery girl, because I always listened to my headphones and didn’t talk to anyone.
Some people found that fascinating.
It’s the distance. You can imagine me to be whatever you want me to be.
In college people called me the mystery girl, because I always listened to my headphones and didn’t talk to anyone.
Some people found that fascinating.
It’s the distance. You can imagine me to be whatever you want me to be.