Have I told you...

.

Have I told you that I loved the rain?
That I hate bringing umbrellas?
That I can consume 25 flat tops in a sitting, in a day?

If you love me, you should know that. But you don't. You never did and you never will.
We barely meet, stare and touch. You were a figment of my shattered past.

A final let go of hopes of "what could be".
Who knows?
Maybe I don't care anymore.



.