He says I never thought of you in that way. I’m sorry. He tries to change the topic like it’s not important. Something he can ignore and act like it doesn’t change your friendship.
How am I supposed to make you stay when I’m struggling to find reasons to love myself?
I’m terrified that one day you’ll be gone and I’ll spend the rest of my life carrying a decaying heart in my chest that shatters every time I hear your name.
I would rather choose selective amnesia
than a relentless chainsaw through my heart
reminding me of how you’ll never love me.
It was fun playing house with you until you destroyed my heart.
So when you try to make a home in my padlock heart, my fingers still tremble to give you the key.
What if I kissed you?
Don’t go, I’ve not yet perfected the art of saying goodbye, the words are still trapped in my throat, I’ll get better, give me some time.
Most days drift by like a strange dream, but I am a broken clock, suspended in time.
The words are a jumbled mess in my mind now but I remember feeling myself unravel in your palms. It was so easy to be myself with you.