Crush. . .

Crush, purely based on lust.
I fear that he won’t focus on us.
Put me on a pedestal, that never gathers dust.
Deep infactuation all based on the past.
Will he even notice that I’m not the same as I was?

Guess it’s just Me vs The Perception of  What Got His Heart Beating.
This is nothing like fighting with an ex he never imagined leaving.
It’ll be me that I’m fighting against, well a more perfect version of me.
Big shoes to fill or should I say little ones. Common facts about me, still quite the variable. Not knowing if he’ll notice which aspects of mine have changed and those which remain the same.
                                                         
Somehow fearing I won’t meet his expectations. Overlooking the fact that, in reality, my beauty has limitations.
He wakes up next to me, greeted by duffel bags, right under my eyes, that usually (if it was any other morning) come in handy when I pick up my morals and dignity which I  had dropped along side my red dress. But in this case, my eyes get greeted by glass slippers which he waited many years to slip on.

♥ Kamiz

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