When it Rings Will You Answer?

One and One and One is Three

Little Things

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*This is a really old poem(?) I wrote. I needed a place to keep it, so here it is.*

Little Things

it was the little things about her that he missed

like the times when she’d borrow his sweater

she would give it back to him months later

and it would smell of her for days

he would always hesitate to wash it but in his heart he knew she would always borrow it again

he hated himself for taking that for granted

he wanted to call her so desperately

but was in a state far too aware that it would be impossible

he could only press pen to paper and drain the memories onto the page in front of him

if only he could tell her about

how he loved the nights she’d fall asleep before the second intermission

about how he’d listen to her heart beat

how it would be in complete unison with whatever song was in his head

that it was always a love song, always.

he wanted to tell her how he loved the way her lips moved every time she read

but he could only lay there with the knowledge he never could

maybe she knew that her smile drove him crazy

and that her laugh could lift him out of even the darkest places

surely though, she must have known, it would be the little things that he’d miss the most.

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Written by josiahh

June 2, 2012 at 8:42 AM

Posted in Creative Writing

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