YOU DON’T LOVE ME ENOUGH
Often times, you don’t remember how I like to have my eggs. What’s my favorite color? I am certain you can’t even guess. But I know you so well, and I hate that you don’t come near. You don’t know my best lips combo or the type of dresses I like to wear. You often forget my middle name and missed my birthday the other day. But I had loved you like that anyways. For so long, I’ve remembered your name, the type of things you love to play as game. I’ve paid attention to every little thing: like your work tools and the things you mostly do. I think that you are vain. You plant yourself in the work of the day. You forget even I work way too much in a day, yet, in the midst of it all, I remember all you say. You don’t show up on special days; the only thing I have from you is a nickname. It causes me pain. Because love is to be felt in every way: either in a distance or even in c...
