Love Is A Bitch

You sit in the dark, your hands trembling. So much so that even one cigarette can not hold. The body shakes convulsively, maybe you're sick, or maybe you're just slowly dying mentally. The memories come back painfully, they wrap you viciously, they suffocate you, they torment you. You cannot sleep, you are spinning in the cold sheets, your consciousness cannot relax, because only He is in it. Hours go by slowly, nothing helps. You have no desire to eat, you can't smile, you can't even talk. You think about how you crossed out yourself, erased your feelings in order to be with Him, to love Him, to give Him everything of your own. You're guilty, maybe you were guilty of something, you didn't do things right. You scroll through everything you've done - and no, you see no reason. One day he just gets up and leaves, leaves your life rudely, leaving a huge void, a huge one, a stinking lack that destroys you. At some point, everything becomes so indifferent to you that you don't care if it's day or night, what date it is, where you are, who you are with. Everything becomes gray, the same. You drive downstream, as long as you live. There is still no smile, the lack continues to weigh so heavily in your chest, your eyes only look down. The body, the soul, the mind suffer, cry, scream, but no one bothers to hear them. Then you stop caring that you are alone, rejected, forgotten. You put on your sunglasses and walk without purpose, desire or meaning. I fucked his mother for life, but mostly for damn love. the lack continues to weigh so heavily in your chest, your eyes only looking down. The body, the soul, the mind suffer, cry, scream, but no one bothers to hear them. Then you stop caring that you are alone, rejected, forgotten. You put on your sunglasses and walk without purpose, desire or meaning. I fucked his mother for life, but mostly for damn love. the lack continues to weigh so heavily in your chest, your eyes only looking down. The body, the soul, the mind suffer, cry, scream, but no one bothers to hear them. Then you stop caring that you are alone, rejected, forgotten. You put on your sunglasses and walk without purpose, desire or meaning. I fucked his mother for life, but mostly for damn love.