I don’t talk to you. You don’t talk to me.
What happened to us? We used to be so close.
Too close. All we did was annoy each other.
Forget the good times. Forget the laughs.
That was all bullshit, and we both know it.
You’re like an unexplained foul odor, left behind in a room.
A festering sore that I keep picking at?
Is that obsession? Or how deeply you annoyed me?
How long will this last?
Until the next one. The next person to get close.
Too close, and they leave without leaving.
Like an open, bleeding sore.