I have no fight left in me
no sparks in my eyes when we see
or melody in my voice when we pretend to converse
no spring in my step when we walk
side by side
no tingle inside when we "accidentally"
brush fingers
those butterflies are long gone
I miss those butterflies
those days when we would just lie
lie on our backs, fingers intertwined
we knew each other inside and out
we no longer had to speak
now we're just strangers
strangers who just...don't speak.