things with him don’t feel the same as the first time we loved each other.

or maybe they do.

or maybe i am blurring the lines because i am desperate for someone to call my own.

he doesn’t make me nervous anymore. the butterflies just aren’t there. the whole damn thing seems to be more out of convenience than anything.

we tried other flavors, but came back to the familiar taste of each other as nostalgia chased us down.

—  same taste, different love