Magnetic

I wouldn’t say it was magnetic, but there is an attraction. It ain’t the valentine’s gifty love but a kind of a comfortable pillow. For him not me, let me tell you. I love to listen to him, he rarely knows what’s happening in here. He never will because he doesn’t try. 

Magnetic, it is, for he runs to me when in need, I’m his pillow, he can cry into and nobody would know. But it needs to stop, for it drains me out this what is between us, neither it is love, nor an attachment, nor anything emotional. I don’t want it to be anything either, but this what it is is not friendship, or it may be.

But it ended today.