22

I never understood why you liked me. 

You’re the kind of person who enters

a room in a bid to light it up, while I like to

sit in the dark, shying away from any 

kind of spotlight, and you speak with the

ease of someone who’s seen enough to 

understand how conversation goes while

I stutter and stammer, getting tongue 

tied about the simplest of things; why did

you choose me? How did you decide

that the best companion of them all was

someone who is barely keeping it together?

Or is the truth just that you don’t know?
I like to think of us as something that’s 

never truly been shattered but that’s a lie-

the cracks of our past still prick me now and

then. I like to think of you as an integral

part of my life, but you were drowning 

and I didn’t even realise, didn’t even flinch.

So maybe the truth is much simpler than

a convoluted reason for this crush, maybe

the truth is one that you still haven’t found out;

crazy looks best in small doses after all,

so who am I to question this infatuation

when the truth is you don’t even know 

what you’re getting into.

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