My friends can attest that I've never been one to adhere to the rules of relationships or break ups. I preach them and I know I should follow them, but alas, I fail to do so. Forgive me.
After all the shit you pulled afterward, the question on everybody's mind is "Why the fuck is this guy still a part of your life?" and they all warned me, "Don't be a foolish heart."
I've been told far too many times that you and I have got a weird dynamic. That given everything that has happened between us, we shouldn't be this close. We shouldn't be having study sessions. We shouldn't be working out together and seeing each other get all hot and sweaty. We shouldn't be calling each other during those 5 minute walks to the bus stop. We shouldn't be going for fish and chips on Mondays or having wings on Wednesdays. Shouldn't, but we do. Routine? A little bit. Appreciation of good company? That sounds more like it.
It's probably the fact that you didn't break my heart that I am still able to tolerate being around you. Because although I let down my defenses and immersed myself in the comfortable, euphoric feeling that being around you gave me; you still never penetrated through to my heart.
Not once have I ever substituted the feeling of being wanted by you; the feeling of being needed by you; or the feeling of being cared for by you as the feeling of being loved by you.
This much is true: My eyes were captivated by what they saw. My nose was fond of what it smelled. My ears fancied what they heard. My lips lusted for the pressure of your lips. My tongue relished the taste of you. My skin adored the feeling of yours against it. And my brain was enamoured with the idea of you-- the idea of us. But my heart? My heart wasn't so foolish after all.
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