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Every so often you’ll say something that could be a reference to our fling years ago. The one that fell apart, me wanting too much, you, wanting too little. The one that circled the drain until we washed away as just friends, and we ended up in horrible relationships, each our own little personal hells. It’s in these moments I wonder if you still want me as much as I still want you, I scour your face for some confirmation, some little nod or sign, and I find nothing. Which could mean there is nothing; or it could mean maybe you’re just so much better than me at hiding or denying your love.
(via sharper-than-they-told-you)
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