because it’s really that quiet and unnoticeable. it can slip by.
besides, you’re the hero of this story. you wrote it.
and the words you write in glossy ink on the back of an old love letter don’t mean anything, they’re empty, like you.
as you crumple the paper up and toss it perfectly into the small garbage can you wonder who will be the one who finally does away with you.
and what about forgetting?
it’s my biggest fear, honestly. more than death or snakes or the mysterious hole in the ceiling. what if you forget about me, what if you forget about how soft my hair is and how I felt on your neck and how you made me so nervous I shook. noticeably.
it’s a fall out and it’s easy and it’s over and it’s life and I’m the one left behind wondering if I’ll ever find anyone I love as much as you.
first love, last love, only love… what if they’re all the same to me?
the answer doesn’t matter. it’s the forgetting part that counts.
now, if you please, let me forget you.