they’ll ask me ‘what happened’
i’ll think of
every minute you spent looking into my eyes
i’ll think of our fingers intertwined
every lingering hug.
and your hand on the small of my back
i’ll taste your lips on the tip of my tongue
and i’ll think of every time you made me laugh until my stomach hurt and
every time you whispered ‘i love you’ like it was second nature and
and it’ll all wash over me
but i’ll still just answer
‘it didn’t work out’
even though i don’t have the faintest recollection as to why it didn’t,
because it could’ve and it should’ve.
but it didn’t.