If I keep moving, I might forget how much I cared.
It seems you already have; you've moved on yet again.
This is the third wedding you have planned on having me cater.
I'll do it because, despite the past, you are my friend.
Just don't expect me to be happy about it.
Do you know how much it hurt, having to smile when I wanted to cry?
I became really good at lying; I know you couldn't see it.
I smile though I am dying inside.
2 comments:
Ooooh. Ouch. That sucks.
Question: what do you mean by "moving"? As in moving away to a new home, or moving as in repetitive hand motion, chop-chop-chopping carrots so all you need to think about is the flash of the blade and not losing a finger so you can pretend you're not losing your heart?
It feels a bit like prose with line breaks, which is admittedly little help coming from me. Throw down some more concrete imagery, punch your readers between the eyes.
I like the story you've got going here, I just want... more. Something to see, feel, taste... and I agree with Nagi about the prose feel. Try for shorter lines, spontaneous line breaks... it makes something feel more poetic. That's how I do it! Haha.
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