I’d like to have a nice finish to that statement, I don’t.
Your kisses tasted a whole lot like what I’d imagine love to taste like. But, it also tastes a lot like goodbyes.
Love (to me) tastes like beer, dark and sour.
Love (to me) tasted like the cheap lubricant I’d ask someone else to put before putting it in.
Love (to me) tasted like the aftertaste of giving oral when you really just wanted to be cordial since, hey… at least return that favor.
Love (to me) tastes like pizza, with all the toppings you can imagine but also all the regrets that come right after you ate “one more slice”.
Love (to me) tasted… so sweet… while it lasted.
All my lovers said they would not leave, all of them knew my biggest fear is to feel alone. And yet, I’m on my summer break and on a Monday I haven’t had real physical contact.
All my lovers said they would not leave, yet they all did one way or the other.
All my lovers said they would not leave, but I can see how I’d abandon myself too.
And so, here I am, holding a cold beer between my thighs and typing stuff no one will read… hoping for it to end soon. And so, here I am.
Tears are now making it difficult to finish this, but I must say… “all my ex lovers said they would not leave.” But, is it over when I just didn’t feel the gushing feeling of a cut cold cut? Maybe this is how drowning feels, like a long and elongated suffering?
It’s hard to breathe, maybe I am drowning… it is hard to breathe.