It's been too long, chasing you, having you, losing you once more. Our stupid pride has made a gash in our trust and now I'm ranting all by myself about our meaning-to-be.
You came and told me you wanted to be here, that it was your toothbrush that deserved a place in my sink, that it was you in my bed, that I needed. You undressed and let me in you, and I was alive again.
And then you left, and I was left with nothing, asking Why. I'm hurt and I'm broken. It's been too long and I'm stretched beyond repair.
2 comments:
Putísimamadre.
Thanks for this post. Dios nos hace...
RE PUTISISISISIMA MADRE....
si..estoy en una situacion similar...y duele mucho...
(por cierto, mi ultimo post en mi blog, se basó en el estilo del tipo de posts que este maravilloso blog publica...espero que no les moleste haber usado ligeramente la idea...)
m.
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