I resent telling you I love you, just so I can hear you say it back.
Exhausted, Jack flopped onto the chair, his limbs hanging limply like a banana skin. Anita didn’t realise that she’d tripped over until she was on the ground, her huge body amassed on the floor like a drop scone.
But I don’t love you. I know. I’ve always known. I don’t need you to love me. I just want you to be convincing.
There was something in way you looked at me, which made me think I’d been hurt this way before.
You smiled as you guided my balance after I stood up; and I’d forgotten why I was on my knees.
Anna persistently twisted her hair as she sat on the end of the bed. Her eyes, naturally big, were fixed on the floor. She had been awake all night, but she had the rare beauty which meant that a night without sleep made her look younger, more naive, instead of fatigued. She hadn’t cleaned her teeth […]
I hate that I am still in love with you.
My heart no longer drops when I read your name. My stomach has stopped getting tangled. My lungs don’t hold in air until I remember to breathe again. My conscience now feels clean.
I see her face when we kiss.
Never be the person that’s easy to fall in love with.