Little things

It never ceases to amaze me how people tend to attach themselves to little things that may seem so insignificant to other people. The scent of her hair left on my pillow keeps me awake at night, eyes closed but awake, thinking of how she was there in my arms, so close to me, how we were so in love…

We would stay up late at night just holding hands. I would look at her and her at me. No words were said, none were needed. But occasionally I would blurt out something stupid like “I love you” (no pun intended) and have a piece of my heart taken away when she said she loved me too. I have lost count of the times I fell in love with her… every little thing she did made me fall again and again.

But I should’ve seen this coming. I knew it would end. The late nights, the innocent touches, the falling again and again… it would all end.

People can make such important decisions based on little, little things… and it is because these little things have such a huge impact that she made her decision. She decided to leave because I was not her prince…

It’s the little things that make such a difference. So I keep wondering, if I had ordered 11 roses and gave her the 12th one myself for Valentines rather than giving her the whole dozen at once; if I had called her after she hung up every time to tell her that I had already missed her; if I was born a guy…

But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. It is over and I am alone once again. But here’s a little thing that she would never have known, or would make a difference: she was my princess and I was indeed her prince. She just decided she liked the pauper more.