Don’t abhor me for being an introvert, dear world. I have nothing to be guilty for, for I swear to have left traces of myself in things I did.
When I stared a little longer in your eyes when he just said you looked “pretty”,
When you were the only one I told I wasn’t “okay” when on the inside I was shattered,
When I left things at the altar just to make it on time for you,  When I mocked you on and on just to hear how you could make swear words dance on the tip of your tongue, I promise I was drenched in you, 80 proof, like your favourite rum.
So, I’m sorry I couldn’t “verbally” communicate to you that you matter, and these poets and writers fooled you into believing that everything in this world needs to be outrageously brave and vividly described to be counted as love but I love you and I hope you know this is not the first time I’m confessing it to you.


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