Eight months to get over

I fell in love with you the first night.
Should’ve known better.

Now it’s either eight months of something real
or just eight months I have to get over.

Are we growing,
or just getting quieter
about what’s missing?

You don’t reach for me first.
You don’t notice the small things anymore.
It didn’t break all at once,
it just stopped building.

I noticed.
I just didn’t say anything.

I didn’t want perfect.
I didn’t want easy.

I wanted forever.
I thought you wanted forever too.