Six months have past and I can finally say:
I don’t love you.
Maybe I’m still in love with the walk we took
Or the time you first kissed my cheek
Or when I stayed up on your birthday
But you fell asleep on mine.
Perhaps I can’t forget the way
You put your arm around me
Or the shape of your lips
But, God, I promise you
I don’t love you anymore.
I might be in love with our memories
But I sure as hell don’t love you.
we’ve both moved on but it still stings to smell your scent and that’s okay (July 1 // 5:56 a.m.)