Dead people don’t want anything. That is the benefit to being dead.
Thea Queen (via thatladysif)

I didn’t know how to love him
when he asked if I wanted to go grocery shopping
with him that Sunday morning.

He fixed the collar of his dress shirt
and told me it was fine that I forgot his birthday
and shrugged when I came an hour late to meet him for dinner.

He couldn’t swim yet I wanted to go fishing
and he joked about me being his life jacket
but I felt him going under and drowning in my excuses.

I couldn’t even love him on a Friday night after work.
He brought me a margarita and watched as I headed over to the bar
to talk to other men about a football game I didn’t understand.

You talked about your mother
like she painted the stars on a warm summer night
and I couldn’t help but laugh through the stories of your brothers.

I ordered myself takeout at your apartment
because you were too lazy to get up
to merely put some bread in the toaster and give me a little butter.

I ran after work to meet you for a drink
and you mumbled an insincere apology to reschedule
and forgot to call me back that night I needed you the most.

You told me I was pretty when I was going out.
I wished you had called me beautiful while I was pouring us cereal
in the middle of the night since breakfast just tasted better after 12AM.


A Story A Day #252 // Unrequited by Ming D. Liu 

(via mingdliu)