Little Conversation

I got jealous seeing you talking on the phone with someone that I didn't know. I didn't get jealous because you were talking on the phone – I got jealous because you were talking in a voice so low, with pervert-y smile all plastered on your face, your torso slouched on your chair. I hate it when I went into your cubicle, then you stopped talking, and asked me what I wanted, but the phone was still glued to your ear.

I was so pissed off that you told me you liked me, and yet you didn't do anything to prove anything that you said. I felt like banging my head on the mirrors in the washroom, just to wipe away my embarrassment, for having a tiny bit of jealousy for someone who didn't love me back.

I was so close to tell to the whole world that you asked me out for a fun ride in Bahrain, when your fun ride was merely a term of friends hanging out together. I got lucky that I didn't get invested too much in you, that when I did, I afraid couldn't find the way out.

I am thankful to you. At least the air gets a little pleasant, and the pretty wild flowers are still there to keep my heart warm.



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