I told him I am sick temporary forever and short-lived “I love you(s)” that kiss-marks and “Good morning beautiful” texts no longer interest me.
I told him how much I hated being touched on the back of my neck that I would not let anyone hold my hand if he’s not serious about it.
I told him I would never trade my poetry and my art over anything because these are all that I have that I would write about him, too.
He told me maybe I keep on waiting for sunrise when it’s 3am that I forget there are still stars boldly shining in the sky.
He told me maybe I keep asking for black when there’s gray that I’m too difficult for a girl at times. He told me he’s not looking for love that there’s so many important things than being too serious with someone.
He told me he’d love to read this, what I think about, so I wrote this.
-Now We just Stop Talking to Each Other