The Red Shirt

I noticed. I noticed how you had that one shirt you adored. That one shirt you wear whenever you had to go to a meeting or to an important event. That one shitty-looking shirt that you like so much I didnt bother to condemn. You look best when you’re confident, and i like seeing you stand up tall. 

I noticed how you wore that shirt when you went to see me even though you wore it to a meeting the previous day. I noticed how you wore it again when we went out for dinner the following week.

You’re not loaded. So that one shirt you had, i understood how much you like it.

I noticed the little efforts. May not be all of them, but i noticed. And those little things were the reason why i loved you. And those little things were the reason why I left you.

I didn’t leave because you hurt me, I left because you didn’t realize how hurt I was. I didn’t leave because your heart is placed somewhere else, I left because your promises bear nothing to your soul. I didn’t leave you for the things that you did, I left because of the things you didn’t. 

I didn’t leave because I hated you, I left because of how much I care for you. 

at last, i figured it out. The red shirt meant nothing to you. And so do I. 

I just enjoy writing
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