Simple and small

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Simple thing have always made me happy. Small things. A few nice words. A gesture. A smile.

I have never fancied big words or promises. Maybe that’s why I fancy her. I rarely see her. We barely talk. But when we do, she knows just what to say. And how to say it.

She’s not mine. Never was, probably never will. She’s with someone who hurts her. And that hurts me.

She is happy sometimes. Her eyes glow like the stars. Then she laughs.

Of course, I’m not the one who makes her smile. It’s him. And that’s the only reason I haven’t hit him, even once. Though I want to. Because along with her smile comes an ocean of tears.

As I said, I like small things. Nice words. A gesture. A smile. I never said I liked tears.

 

 

M. Stefanova, 2 January 2013

 

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