Word after word I beg to be accepted by him.
Now, I'm not one to open up about my emotions, but I craved him. I gave, he took, I gave, he took, but the way he looks at me, i might as well have been the robber that took his emotions and love. But he did that to me. But I loved him. I thought. I think. He left in a heap of adultery and perfume, for I miss him and envy her, for she had taken my love straight from my hands. Or so I think. Shall HER life be full of displeasure and need for acceptance from the man she craves love from, for she may have saved my sanity. However he leaves his mark on my life, OUR song, OUR bed, OUR love.......never existed? Or may her life be filled with gifts and pleasure of acceptance from her 'ONE TRUE LOVE'. But nobody ends up like that, do they? Only in movies? Books? Maybe I want her to be happy, or maybe I want her to suffer. Now, I am no masochist, but maybe she shall pay for taking my man. Or maybe I want her to feel what I feel, know I'm not crazy, because these days I feel as though I am. Or multiple. A pimp? Does he have a line of women, and I was just another? Or was I 'not good enough' to be one of his 'whores'. Aren't we all whores. On the inside. However once, I retreat from this place, I will go back to him, and he will take me back. Because, he has always said he will take me back, right? He has always told me that he will be there for me to make me feel better, right? Even though the law disagrees. Once I escape this cold, dark room, I will go back to him. This room must all be in my head. No. Once I leave this hospital bed, I will go back to him. Because heroin will always be there for me.
