This is a fight against oneself. In my mind she’s waiting for the 15th for at the very least an obligatory happy birthday text. But I’ll never send it because I’m a villain and villains do villainous things like breakup with someone the day after Christmas. In my mind she’s crying for me and my attention. This mental self torture doesn’t let me sleep or enjoy the taste of food or even find pleasure in watching strangers fuck. But after the 15th it will be over. After the 15th I’d be able to sleep again and do average things like constant checking my phone without the agony of it not being her. I wanted this. I needed this. Remember it when the lump comes back to your throat. Tell it to your soul and scream it to your ancestors “ I left her!” I need to take it like a woman does when she magically and miraculously gives birth. I need to take it like a newly created famous rapper after being shot multiple times because of envy and street beef. After the 15th I’ll never fall in love again, for love is too painful to stare into her eyes and give a kiss on lips that don’t want it. Lips become all stiff and hollow with no promise of tomorrow. Lips that say enough with stillness. She didn’t kiss me back the last time I saw her beautiful face in the rain . Now we’ll never kiss again and all the years wash down the drain.