we always used to have silly, little fights about who loved each other more.

coming up with reasons like who called first the most,

who was the one who hung up,

which one looked at the other longer when they weren’t paying attention,

and who looked back when we said goodbye every time.

now sitting on my kitchen floor, sobbing with a gaping whole in my chest where my heart used to be

i realize i was never the one to pull away first in a kiss.

but winning doesn’t mean much to me now.

and losing doesn’t seem to bother you either.