Just like your parents used to say, “Not everything is about you.”

Every word that I say isn’t said for you and every time my legs shake it is not me quivering at your touch. I could say that once upon a time it was all meant for you, but if you believe that after all this time that is still the case, you are far more naive than I could have imagined.

You and I are so routine; I’ve just been going with the motion because it is easier than picking up and starting anew.

You aren’t the only man I kiss; you weren’t the first nor will you be the last. Once upon a time you may have been my all, but the fragment of my heart you still possess has become so small.