Those Brown Eyes

III. Pain

Sometimes I wonder why my heart doesn't break from all this pain. Always scratched, always bruised, but never broken.

I'm a bit of a masochist, I like the pain. It reminds me that I am alive, and I seem to always beg for more.

Now I go out in tear stained T-shirts and all I can think of is you. Now all I can do is drink and hate myself for ever falling for you in the first place.

My heart aches for your touch. So much that I can feel it pounding in my head like a drum, along with the voices overlapping each other and telling me that I deserve this. Maybe I believe them, maybe I'm listening to every word they say because I secretly know it's true.

You used to tell me not to pay any attention to them, to shut them out and hear only your voice above the noise. I would give anything for that now. I would give anything to hear your sweet, soothing tones brushing along my ears like ocean waves; calmly lapping against my skin and showing me that there is nothing to fear.

And now all I feel is the pain, the gut wrenching, heart-squeezing, suffocating pain.

I'm past the point of asking you to stay because you're already gone, and I should have nothing to fear, because I've lost everything. And yet here I am, still terrified. And I suppose that's because I'm afraid of losing it all again.