It’s the littlest things that really prove
How little you know about me.
It’s the innocent incorrect way you see,
And the shallow way you soothe

It’s the fact you forget the little things,
All the facts I subtly state
It’s the mask you see as me- not fake,
And lack of sense that stings

I always thought the idiom
That paper cuts can ****
Did not apply to me one bit-
No, my blood would never spill.

But it’s the smallest sins that clear the view
My innocence obscured
I thought your density was pure,
My heart, so quick to skew

I always thought these little things
Meant nothing at all;
Those thoughts so small, unrecalled
Had no such harm to bring.

But slowly stacked forgotten facts
Grew so subtly,
‘Til one straw broke my bending back
And showed your “love” for me.