We are not friends. We were once, so goodwill and pleasant memories carry weight and importance. A small piece of heart reserved for the lovely. But we do not know each other’s heart. We can not know the depth, for we never really asked.

It’s not through lack of caring no, for that would imply a deliberate choice when really I forgot time changes who we are. Once upon a time all we did together was all we were, and there was no need for questions. Then we grew up, apart, and I never really realised it until one day the realisation hit like dust.

Blind and confused, I forgot who I am for a second, because how can I know myself when I don’t know you?

The dust covers my eyes and I cry. I cry for those friends who didn’t ever realised they weren’t anymore.

*Just something I’m working on*

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