Grew up, trying to convince my mother I can sustain myself, with that candy she refuses to buy me, trying to convince my father, eating that scoop of ice cream will actually not get me a cold, little did I realize while convincing them about sweets and ice creams, I grew up convincing myself I could sustain my appetite for love, with that tiny miniscule drop of love you once offered, I could kill hurt by hurting more. Now, I like my share of sweets after a full course meal, and my scoop of ice cream on a warm sunny day. But wanting you is like wanting to kill myself on a cold winter night by waiting on the streets without a sweater, and telling myself I’m fasting, when I’m starving.
Breakcage 