And you know the worst part? We started out as friends.
We used to talk about everything—about the weather, about God, about Math, about the world. About the most random, inconsequential things.
Whenever we talk to each other, you make me want to stay there, in that moment, with you—andI'm the type of person who always wants to be somewhere else.
These little talks we had were special to me . . . but for you, maybe they weren't. For you, they were probably nothing.
And it sucks when you're really eager to spend time with someone, and yet you don't feel the same amount of enthusiasm from them.
We don't really talk anymore, and I'm trying to be okay with that.
And this is why I'm giving up on you.
YOU ARE READING
I Give Up
PoetryThis is the story of how you hurt me. It starts with you, and that girl who broke your heart. When she left, off you went-walking around, trying to figure things out. It starts with me, and that boy who broke mine. When he left, I lost all my color...
