Simple Things

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I believe it's the little things that hurt the most.

While most people can ignore a certain scent or a certain phrase, my traitorous senses pick up every one. Each time his scent hits, a new stab of pain is sent straight to my already damaged heart. It is damaged beyond repair, and every time I think of his arms around me, my heart is broken further.

His favorite color was teal. Same as mine. Every time someone asked me what my favorite color was, a memory rushes to the forefront of my mind and I resist the urge to drop to my knees and scream as more pain washes over me like a tidal wave, drowning me.

I can't talk properly. I damaged my vocal cords from the screaming. The only thing I can do is grind my teeth and take it. I have no outlet. I've lost myself.

It's the simplest things. A fleeting thought of his touch, or his warmth. His lips on my skin, his heartbeat just above my ear where it rested on his chest. It's the simplest things that can be your downfall.

I fell hard a long time ago. And now, I pay the price for being so foolish. I can't seem to pick myself back up.

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