Prose #8
–
if we only didn't say goodnight,
if we only tried not to say the same things, right?
but words thrown the same day gets useless as the time pass by.
hearing your ' I love you's ' doesn't flutter the butterflies in my stomach anymore.
it tasted like a bittersweet memory, our kind of tragedy.
you and I are getting blurry, where did we go wrong, honey?
𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒?
—𝚒𝚏 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢
