I think of you. As I sit here in sorrow. I love you, and I’m in love with you. I don’t want to see you at all forever for the rest of my life.
I don’t know how to explain it. I want you here, right here, right now, but I don’t want to see you. I want to cradle you, to hear your voice. But I am afraid to touch you. If my skin ever touches your skin I will disintegrate into the sand. I will blow in the wind if you get too close to me. And I love you, and I can’t live without you.
Don’t ever call me. No more text messages. Let’s stop pretending. You know that I love you. You know that I can’t live without you. So do me a favor and disappear. Become that other person you always talk about being. Leave me here. Abandon me with my demons, and my demons are wanting you. I want to be close to you, always and forever.
But I can’t. Because you are gone, and here I am, drunk after another one night stand and still thinking of you. I wish that the empty sex didn’t make me think of you. It’s supposed to make me forget.
I could never forget you.
Please call me. It is torture without you. It is torture with you, too, but I’d rather be in pain with your dick in my pussy than hurting all alone and with no logical reason as to why this hurts so much.