:( (pt3/3)

Burnt bridge after burnt bridge. I blame everything, but the matches are in my pocket, after all. Why did the universe need to turn my favourite person into a fucking life lesson? I miss the wet, warm feeling on my lips. I miss his proportions, I miss the firmness of his forearms. I miss his rounded fingertips, I miss his scratchy soft face, I miss when oxytocin intoxicated me to a point of blindness. And I cant help but look for those beautiful, slender fingers that used to play the piano for me, only to find that they no longer exist. I could go back to the past, but nobody is there anymore. Alone again.