It’s nights like this–when its cold and there are inches of snow on the ground–that I wish we were a real couple.
Walking home from the train tonight I looked into the window of the Trattoria down the street. I saw us sitting in the window munching on pizza and sipping red wine while watching the snow fall and feeling sorry for those trudging towards their destination. Inside we would feel warm and cozy, talking about our days and gazing in each other’s eyes. I’d feel happy just sitting with you talking.
It’s not worth another talk, they are all the same. It’s not worth whoulda, coulda, shoulda. I know that all already.
I just sometimes wish things were different.