Does she still think of me?
If she does, well that’s weird
But since we’re already here
Could I make a request?
That the man in her thoughts
Is a man who was sort of like me
But substantially less of a mess
Not the rampaging idiot, far from his best
Who would go on to cause her a world of distress
Often too drunk and always too proud
And obsessed with the sound
Of his voice and the parts of her body he wasn’t allowed
Let the manifestation of me in her mind
Be a better, more sensitive, much taller guy
A man who tried harder than I did to please her
A man with some patience, less easily riled
I know we’re talking some kind of selective amnesia
But could the man she considers
Cut a worthier figure
Than that shallow, impetuous, arrogant child
Let the flickering fragments of me in her head
Be devoid of the idiot things that I said
Stick some nostalgic music on a black and white montage
Of the handful of moments
That the wheel span to ‘romance’
And I managed emotions
That I didn’t treat cheaply, or see as a weakness
Or sacrifice to my genius for sabotage
If she still thinks of me let it be without pain
Let there be tucked away in the folds of her brain
A man who’s not sulking or cheating or worse
May she think of my face as it was when we first started
Smiling together, when we started to click
Of a time when I acted much less of a dick
Of a time, pretty brief
When she was all I could see
And I wondered and hoped
She was thinking of me
