Feb. 08, 2003 - 2:04 p.m.
It's the little things, you know: offering me the last cigarette, scratching my back when I sit next to you, kissing me when I've used up all the hot water, instead of giving me evil looks, finding amusement in the fact that I never know where my car keys are, leaving the light on for me.
This is what I miss the most.
I miss being all new and shiny and worth the effort. My concerns are shrugged off because you too have important things on your mind, things that are more important than my petty little concerns.
Whisper something soft and kind to me from time to time.
Notice that I am sitting here staring at you, loving you with every glance.
My sighs are becoming a frequent occurance, but they are being drowned out by the sound of your voice, teasing me mercilessly.
You've retained your humour at least, but it has a biting edge to it now. You must have learned that from me, but it does not suit you as well.
I wanted you to make me more human, but I wonder if I have made you more monstrous instead. But I'll place my hand on your shoulder one last time, again and forever, to remind you that my love never falters.
