It’s all good. It’s cool. I don’t care.

Every time I see you, these unspoken chants seems to fail me.

The sight of you gives me this sporadic feeling that throws me off relentlessly; leaving me unwanted.

I tremble. I become this frail little girl again. waiting. waiting for someone to break her again and again.

In the sea of people, I’m always gonna be the girl who could easily catch a glimpse of you.

It’s always been you. The letter next to T. The word after I Love. It’s you.




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