Pathetic

2I am not the one to hold hands. No. Not really. Not that I’m too clean to be touched. No. But baby, when you told me you are afraid to die, I almost knotted my knuckles into your fingers until my muscles and bones moulded into a singular grip of structure on my hands.

I am not the one to text first. No. Not really. Not because I was pinched by my pride. No. But honey, when you told me you are sick and you have nothing to eat, I would run to your door and bring you your favorite sinigang and never leave on your door.

 

I am not the one to hint a kiss. No. Not really. Not that I’m too sick of your lips. No.

But lately, when you told me you screw up at your work and wanted to die, I almost grasp your paled lips until it no longer make a sound.

But

You’re the one who untangled your hands.

You’re the one who never left a message.

You’re the one who never attempted to kiss.

I have lose you.

If only I could be enough.

I’m sorry.

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