Using your name seems like a violation, speaking is a burden and sleeping is crucial. Living on dreadful sleeps, dried tears and heartache. Falling a mile a minute in both directions. To the person who stole my daydreams and the one who kissed me goodnight. It's like the illustrator forgot to draw the rest of our scene.
There's an association between last conversations and death, but what about the conversations, before love does a 360? When the kisses felt everlasting and every word from his mouth was an addiction. When the sparks explained in romance movies were visible and waking up wasn't such a tragedy.
I'm relapsing into another heartbreak. Your body felt like nicotine and kisses from you, were ecstasy. But you left me without notice and forgot me like it was nothing. When you think of me, you remember our last conversation. When I think of you, I feel symptoms of withdrawal. So here's to being sober... Sober from love.
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Very well written. Keep up the good work!