The day you decide that my eyes aren't beautiful anymore and that you no longer see that sunset you once saw every time you turned to look at me, will you tell me? There will come a day that you won't like the way I laugh, or the way I get upset over the smallest dumb things. You see, your eyes won't sparkle and glow with so much light with just the mention of my name. Your heart won't do that small jump through a hoop when you're about to see me again. The nervousness will slowly leave your body and my caresses will no longer send a shiver down your back. Will you be kind enough to tell me that everything you once loved about me you now hate it? Like the way I'd rolled my eyes at you for thinking you were all that, or the way I'd chuckled when you winked at me or blew me a kiss. The way I stutter, even the way I shy myself away from everyone will make your blood boil. Will you tell me when the hearts and flowers end for you? The day will come when you decide that none of me is important anymore, and the sad part is that I know you won't tell me when it all fades away.
YOU ARE READING
for you
Short Storyto whoever identifies themselves with the character of each "story", but most importantly to the person behind each thought. I don't consider myself a writer nor do I believe to be one, my mind just runs wildly imagining stories of people I haven't...
