To fall in love, is to willingly permit intrusion into your life. No longer in my memories are the existence of past relationships, or the slightest remembrances of what this crazy little big thing feels like. My heart has conditioned itself to transition into a morbid beating piece of flesh. Love, of late, has become a grotesque of a loose verbal giveaway.

The apocalypse of his ever-ready departure has thus remained me in a sea of debris, one of causing this colossal hollow in me. I am no longer a person and I no longer live and am dispossessed of my greatest ability.

Night has prostrated before me, and I claw deep within fragments of brokenness for a touch of familiarity of emotion. You were my true first cut, and deepest it indeed is.