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Torn Apart

Stuck in silence. Drowning in deep thought. There I lay, covered in layers of blankets. Soul searching. Thinking how kissing had become a habit. Fucking, to me, was nothing but a game. To her I said, "I love you." Sadly, she believed it to be true.

Behind my kind eyes, lay a bad boy demeanor. With my pretty pink lips came a mouth full of white lies that manipulated this girl into being my pleasure toy. She let me in. Practically gave herself to me.

I didn't love her. I loved her body. I never wanted her. All I ever wanted was her body. Damn! I liked her better on her knees or when she screamed please. My soul, empty of feeling. The sex was empty of meaning.

Yes! I don't deserve the smiles she tries so hard to hide back whenever people merely mention my name. I don't deserve her happily listening to love songs and absent mindedly dedicating them to me. Neither do I deserve her feelings when she's high off her mind, looking back down from the clouds wishing for nothing but my presence silhouetting hers. Above all, I don't deserve her.

15 minutes of fun. 10 seconds of uttermost pleasure. 9 months in pain, 3 days in hospital. A baby without a name. This would never have happened if the rubber wouldn't have torn.

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