I used to find your quirkiness pretty,
I used to smile at things (about you) that others didn’t.
I used to think of you when I dimmed my bedroom lights.
I used to think that if I wanted to write words about your touch I must’ve loved you..
I must’ve loved you?
well truth be told I liked you until I didn’t. and they say that love doesn’t work that way.
I didn’t understand them.
I didn’t understand it until I did.
I didn’t understand it until I was standing outside some other girl’s door and for the first time in my life,
I could not avert my my focus from the pattern on that damned door..
that when I had to, I got lightheaded from how much the blood was drained from my body, despite my racing heart; the veins in my hands felt even more ice-cold[…]
as I could not stop myself from smiling, and waited till the silhouette of the love I waited for appeared..
for an instant I understood it all, and my heart grieved for you.
until it didn’t/