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Memories of when

I want to know whywhywhywhy did he flush our friendship down the drain. What I mean is, whywhywhywhy don't you love me? We sit down with our coffees. I cannot remember who paid. I think I did. Why? You hurt me, I pay for your coffee? I remember feeling awkward, feeling bad. I want you to like me. I hope, maybe, if I pay for your coffee, you'll pay for mine another time… You'll want to see me again. You'll want to have coffee with me. Again. I don't know that yet, but we only have coffee once more after that, months later. We do not talk about anything in particular. It will break my heart again. But I will get back up. I will gather my heart and let it grow stronger. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. When we sit down, I realize I made a mistake. You do not want to be there. I am on the defensive. Afraid. I have been burned by you, and I do not know why I hope you won't try to burn me again. This coffee talk leads nowhere. I backtrack, I want to go forward but I backtrack and we talk nonsense for an hour. Nothing that should be talked about is talked about. Everything stays hidden in the shadows, together we walk the 'enchanted' walk where everything is beautiful and everything is fine. The broken pavement where I lay my heart to die stays beneath the ashes of what-we-should-have-talked-about. We never talk about that coffee ever again. I do not think either of us mind. There are darker things buried in all of us.
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Written by
turnoffthelights
For You?
Written by
turnoffthelights
Published
Mar 15, 2017
Lines·Words
32·276
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