Writing To A Ghost

There wasn't supposed to be a word that could describe you
If there was then that would mean that other people feel what I feel for you
Not special
It's not special anymore
This feeling in my stomach
You've named a metaphor for

Cherry cola
Fizzy, shaking
Elasticity
Almost breaking
No, oh oh
Don't go
No, oh, no, oh
Don't go

You weren't supposed to be the hand tied to my finger
But you are the band of green from my friendship ring that always seems to linger
Still here
Still here after all these years
This heavy weight on my hand
That's become so very dear like

Spaced out phone calls
Cutting out and
Fading into something
Almost gone
No, oh oh
Don't go
No, oh, no, oh
Don't go