I liked you, I really did.
You were so smart, I'd have spent a day listening to the words that came out of your mouth and won't feel a bore. I won't lie that the chocolate of your skin felt like my favourite colour and the contours of your face was a distraction I would welcome any day. The way you laugh, oh my God the way you laughed was the most comfortable thing, it blurred the sound of my environment and all I heard was you in the glory of what a sunset in the seaside would sound like.
I really liked you, I Did.
Then that evening in an elaborate VN you told me, in summary, that I didn't matter in the grand scheme of things... The butterflies somersaulted and threw up every glitter of sparks I used to feel. I did not care what evenings in santorini would sound like, or what my favourite colour felt like. The demise of any fantasy of what the mouth of a reserved smart man could do to me.
