She could never say what she saw in him,

but could never feel the same way again.

She wanted to hear the stories that his expressions used to say.

She missed staring into his eyes, that used to gleam in joy and glitter in dismay.

She longed to kiss the air that brushed his lips.

She craved for breathing in his skin’s fragrance.

She could never say what she loved about him.

But loved him.

That she did.

One Reply to “..the drug called “love””

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