Reader. Writer. Romantic.


For months and months
It was you and I
Endless nights
And infinite mornings

Pictures, phone calls, Facebook messages

Then they stop
They all stop
Days and days
Of looking forward
And going back
Huddled beneath my covers
Waiting for something new

I thought we had something special
I thought despite it all
You could and would still love me

Was I just a friend for the pleasures I could provide?
Or was there something more?
You said you valued me
For my ability to think and debate
But it turns out
You were just in it for yourself

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