It was the little things about you.
The little things we used to do.
They’re gone now.
Everything we do now, it feels forced.
I want to tell you that I love you.
I just can’t seem to let the world slip out of my mouth.
I want you to know. I really do. Even now, as I drink.
The sweet taste becomes a burn. I think about how I am not important to you.
How it seems like I never was….How it seems like I was just a temporary replacement.
It was the little things.
It was the longing stares.
It was the deep conversations about where we wanted to go and who we wanted to be.
I want to tell you that after all this time. I still feel some sort of way.
But what will that even do?
It’s not going to change anything. No matter how much I wish it to be.
being maarthaa 