My hands shake as I type out a text that I know I will never send to you.
A cigarette sitting between my lips as if it was home.
I say how much I think about you,
I try and tell you that I think Iâm falling for you and how your eyes feel like home,
About how your smile spreads warmth across my body.
I try and talk about how the nights we spent together mean everything to me, and how I miss you when I havenât spoken to you for a week.
But then I stop.
The backspace becomes my best friend,
Deleting every letter one by one.
How could I tell you that I may love you when I know I am never on your mind?
I know full well that I am just someone to fuck after a long day at work
And that I mean nothing to you.
I guess I will never mean as much to you as you do to me.
Iâm always the one that gets attached too quickly,
And loves too much.
















