SMALL TALKS

break.

I stepped towards him, my mouth dry and heart thumping madly in anticipation. This was it. It was now or never.

But when I tapped his left shoulder with the tip of my forefinger on my left hand, he turned around and his face was contorted into vivid anger.

"What do you want?"

His words were like venom, as though poison was dripping from his teeth. His icy glare cut through me like knives, penetrating me and my very soul. I stared up at him, my heart aching.

And then I saw her. Your new love. One who didn't break your heart, or break you.

And she was pretty. Poetically so.

Perhaps more than me.

Or so I thought.

And it was in the way you laced your fingers into hers, and the way you watched her with horrific love in your dark brown eyes, and a smile plastered across every acre of your face, that danced across to touch the very corners of your eyes, that reminded me so much of us and how happy and in love we were that made me retreat.

Because for you, it was her now. And not me.

- it was never me.