looking into his eyes again, feeling my spine shudder under the weight of his voice once more, was like listening to a cover of my favorite song.
the lyrics are the same,
(his smile hadn't changed a bit- only the one he directed at me has)
and I could almost sing along, but it doesn't feel right. the comfort the familiarity of the song
(of him)
normally brings isn't here, and my heart didn't hum along.
(I know too much about him for me to ever not recognize the notes.
but he changed his cologne.
his hair cut frames his cheekbones in a way I didn't remember.
and the regret rolling through my veins when his eyes lock on mine is incomparable
to how breathless I used to get
when he was my favorite song).
YOU ARE READING
open letters to no one
Poetrypoems I can't keep to myself. things to get off my chest with verbs, nouns, adjectives. life lessons I have no one to share with. texts I really should send but don't have the courage to. things I can't say aloud. in essence, words I want to scream...
