you were right, i shouldn't have. curiosity killed the cat. and so i bury my cat of a heart for tonight.
(and to whoever may read this: no, i don't want to talk about it.)
Three years ago, it felt a lot like opening a present after waiting for so long.
But then, here you are, three years of on-again, off-again mini-relationship periods after. Now, there’s this sense of urgency running through your veins as palms skim swiftly over curves and dips and swells so familiar you don’t have to keep your eyes open, but just let it go, one smooth long highway of nerve endings, and nothing but – and then it hits you, this darkness, and how it’s all too dark to find where the fuck the magic had gone.
(People lose the spark all the time, you’re not alone.)
And it all feels as if you’re opening the same present over and over, and inside, something feels like it’s dying.
"It’s okay," she had soothed you, so close that you can breathe in your own failure and her disappointment.
This wasn’t even a relationship, yet you sound like an old married couple on the verge of a falling out.