Day 1: No, you're not gone. You're just busy. You're still mine.
Day 2: Why did you leave. I can't breathe. How could you do that?
Day 3: I'm okay.
Day 4: **** you. I hate you. I hope I never speak to you or see you again.
Day 5: I love you.
Day 6: Please come back.
Day 7: You're the biggest piece of **** You never deserved me.
Day 8: I miss you.
Day 9: God, you hurt me so badly. Why do I still want you?
Day 10: I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
Day 11: You promised me forever.
Day 12: I don't need you.
Day 13: I feel empty.
Day 14: I'm fine.
B.S.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
I am a choice
We all are actually..
Even the tiniest specie
But I've always wondered though
Why are there second, third, or so?
We will feel much better if it's not like that
Every one of us would appreciate that a lot
I am a last choice living proof...
Not even second,
Always the last
In the meantime
I just hope everything would pass
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 7:34 AM UTC
Remember those roses, deep red
Layed down all over my bed
How I invited you to follow, we should play a game
Something about a squirril and a rabbit, it was insane
Then between laughs and giggles I took the first chance I got
You bend over and I shoved the flowers up your ****
You screamed take them out, take them out
So I did, you roared, what are you whining about?
There's blood all over the place
White stains on your hair and face
And an odd sock, I'm missing one of those
Somehow it ended up on the stem of the rose
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 7:12 AM UTC