I loved all your poems but I never told you you were good with words.
I never told you because between you and I, I was meant to be the one good with words.
I never told you how much it hurts knowing I wasn’t your first love.
I never told you how at times I wish you’d put me first.
I never told you such wish because I know it’s absurd.
But perhaps I never told you because I was afraid I’d get something back that asks why should I be put first, or implies that I will never be put first.
I never told you that sometimes when I get so excited about something you’re the first one I want to tell... but I don’t tell you because I’m scared it doesn’t sound exciting to you as I know your life is full of adventures with family and friends.
I never told you that everyday I wake up my heart aches that it’s another day without you.
I never told you I even get jealous of the stinky boys who get to see you everyday.
I never told you the reason I created another tumblr profile is so I can cry my heart out over you without you ever finding out.
I never told you how when I’m so down I want to take my life I wonder if you’d still feel the way you told me you would feel.
I never told you how tiring it is loving someone so immensely not knowing if that person feels the same way... not knowing if such love is reciprocated.
I never told you how much I hated myself at one point because I could not stop loving you...
I never told you that to get to where I am now, the less Drumstick-dependent Walnut, I had to kill a part of myself slowly.
Yes, I know you call that moving on but to me it is something else.
Moving on from you is slowly killing the part of me that loves people because it was you who made me realise I can love people truly. Why love when I only get hurt in the end?
I know you mean well and I know you’re right. I know I should move on. Even if that meant losing my ability to care and love for others.
