impulsive love

9.

one hundred and fifty-nine days.

that was the last time we spoke but, who's counting?

certainly not me.

those were the lies i told myself everyday, to avoid

the consequences of solitude.

i didn't want to admit to myself that you forgot about

me; my existence.

i was in denial—i mean, i am in denial.

i know you think about me everyday,

i know you haven't erased our pictures, our

memories. well, that's what i want to believe.

i just want to believe that, i was a big contribution to

your life such as how you were to mine. i want

to live in your thoughts and memories forever.

i want you to—always love me, but you most likely

already forgot my name.

-thiwa.