The last time we made love,
I was not sure I could still call it love
I felt like *** was what we should be doing only to shut that moment of awkwardness that was beginning to surround the empty spaces already existing between us.
I thought that if I could send you to paradise again you wouldn't leave me
I thought.
"He won't"
"We can make it work"
"We wouldn't...
Would we?"
And I remember hiding my face on your shoulder as I viscerally rode you,
Rough but quietly
As I struggled with the tears I felt falling down my face
Tears that later would become rivers when I left your apartment the next morning.
Tears that til this day you don't (and won't) know of.
That was the first time I really hated you
That was the first time I, unknowingly, had *** instead of love
And after you came, that was the first time I really felt used
Just like an object of pleasure
Like that was the reason you were still keeping me around
And that was when I should have left you
It should have been my valentine's gift
To you