"I thought we were a real love relationship. I did. I was very invested in love, but it was just this long, long sex thing that could end at any moment because after all, it's just about getting off. Almost all the time, you tell yourself you're loving somebody when you're just using them. This only looks like love."

Your eyes met mine on a chilly December night. Our hands and body soon whispered "hello, let's get closer, closer." We started moving so quickly our minds stopped thinking. We were out of control. The world around us dissappeared, and our feud as lovers was led by the warmth your burning pants shed; every empty word of affection you spoke and every word we wanted to believe pieced together in your journal caught them on fire. You rubbed them together way too quickly. We rubbed them together way too quickly. Burn, burn. Burn away our memories. I hope your cologne soaks your blanket I used to sleep with in my bed every night. I hope enough kerosine covers it to the point where a single match burns up every single room and the memories we've made in my head are murdered by the dying flame. We waited for a spark after the spark had died. We told each other lies hoping for something more, but who are we to force ourselves to love who we don't? We began as nothing but mutual emotional support and a side dessert of some temporary euphoria. I looked into your eyes and knew what I was for, and I wonder if you saw right through me too. We were both shallow. The only difference was that I actually cared about you when I said so. I showered you with love, but I never bathed in it. The shape of your body made me forget your vulnerable soul. It wouldn't the first time that my compassion overruled my guts. I wanted the best for you, stranger. Maybe one day, you'll realize she's really saying "your heart is my pinata." You gave it to back her to break once more. Don't believe my words yet, but once you get out of your fantasy, know that what I speak is true. If you're just in for stealing the her halo around her devil horns, go right ahead. But when you're left with no one to turn to, don't come back to me the same way you did. The grass on the other side was never as green as your eyes; the only green you saw was your jealous self and the opportunity to finish what you never did. You left me in tears without showing your bonafide face or reason. Perfection met nightmares. Come and taunt me with these sleepless nights and empty stomachs. You left me cold and stoic and without belief or sympathy, forever. Let go, and I'm left with apathy.