and I promised myself that I'd stop writing about you,
because you no longer deserved it.
---
but here I am, a month later, and I still compare
every new person I meet to you;
I still find pieces of you in song lyrics;
I still check my messages hoping that maybe you've changed
(either your mind, or your personality, or both).
here I am, a month later, still writing about you, love.
and I wish I wasn't.
I wish your name didn't make my cheeks turn slightly red;
I wish seeing pictures of you smiling with other people,
better people, didn't make my heart sink a little;
I wish I could convince myself that you're not worth it anymore.
---
we'll see how I'm doing next month.