domingo, 16 de agosto de 2015

Terrible questions

She looks up from her tired face, her darkened eyes, her dry lips. She's not in the best state. She has been suffering. She looks up with love, old love, hurt love.

"Do you miss me?"
she asks

The questions burn my thoughts and my heart. I don't know if you miss me. I don't know if I miss you. I think I miss yoy making me feel like the only girl in the world. I believe I miss you when you kiss my head and put your arms around my self because it makes me feel like there's no trouble in the world. I feel that I miss your skin on my skins, your lips on my lips, your self in my self. I'm sure I miss your warmth next to me, all nights. 

Do you miss me?

Do you even think of me? Do you think of all the things you said to me when we're togeteher? I think not. There's not enough in the world I can do to make you miss me. What will you do when we part, do you even know? will you remember what we did? Will you find another one that makes you think of no one else, no one like me? Will you miss me? You won't. You won't miss my skin, or my lips, how I felt under your hands. You will not miss my eyes and my laughter. You will not miss me at all, like you don't miss me right now. 

I won't love you. Because there is no power in the world that would make us unite. Maybe some day you said you missed me, but I never believed it and neither did you.

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