A little accident.

Dumb, not grave.

Small talks.

Turning into something more.

What to you was seemingly random,

To me was treasure.

You were there when no one else dared to stay.

Yet you never knew that.

Out of small talks,

I spilled truth.

I made myself a burden.

I made you worry,

I'm sorry.

I ponder if it was wrong for me;

Wrong to even speak to you so openly.

You said it was fine,

Even though I know I take much of your time;

Though I thank you;

Letting some of the bottled grief get out of me.

But we don't even talk anymore.

But even if we do;

*You don't have to lie anymore