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Sticking Around

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A toast to us and what could’ve been

A toast to what never was

While with age, wine becomes finer and more expensive, our relationship became the opposite

As months passed, the lines between right and wrong were smeared and I began to feel cheap, ‘we’ began to feel cheap

The night after what I still think of as one of the best nights of my days, I remember whispering,

“I really like you and I’m just waiting for it to f*** me up.”

Your response?


Whether it be to spare my feelings or preserve the seemingly perfect night, you said nothing

We laughed and spoke on the way home and I remember you looking at me and saying,

“I think you’re sweet.”

Though slightly off the conversation, I knew it was response to the words I whispered to you earlier, my lips tracing it into your neck

I knew that ‘I think you’re sweet’ was confirming my biggest fear:

You didn’t feel the same and it’d be useless to wait around until you did

You didn’t have to spell it out for me

I understood

We were a mess, our relationship no strings attached

How foolish of me to try and attach them

Even if attached, one day we’d hear a deafening 'SNAP’ signaling the cut of our floss like rope, the end of all

Even after this, I would still pine for a redo

But fear not

One day, watching netflix at 7:47am with a coffee mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other, I would realize one thing:

Sticking around is a foolish act when there’s nothing left to stay for

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