Woe, is literally fucking me...

The thing about bad boys, that are in fact, good men, is that they're intoxicating and addictive.

They're a remedy juxtaposed firmly with a warning label.  
 
Oft, there's red neon signage that's flashing in the distance of my mind, and it warns me that I'm at risk of an unhealthy obsession if I proceed on flirting with danger.
 
I failed to adhere to the significance of such notions when they were forthcoming at the time, and the danger associated with his kind was intoxicating but toxic, all in the same breath.
 
Obviously, it was a little overwhelming but extremely tempting because men like that are my weakness.

Evidently, I wasn't able to keep tabs on my emotions. I'm a failure from that perspective, and it gets tricky when closure seems imminent.  
 
From his end, or mine. I can rarely successfully pull off an LDR when I’m emotionally bound, through touch.
 
I never seem to learn my lesson, and I bail at the eleventh hour if he wants more than what we've already established.

It seems cruel to say nothing when everything contained within 3 little words are about to roll off my palate.
 
It's a bad habit, loving him.
 
However, I don't see him trying to understand how good I could be for his well being, in therefore, the situation is futile.
 
It's nice when you're the last thing he tastes before he closes his eyes each evening, and you're first thing he reaches for in the morning, just before dawn breaks and the first light of day peeks through the blinds.  
 
That's my kind of happiness.  
 
Knowing that I'm soon going to cum all over his morning wood, which leaves me somewhat sore throughout the day, underneath my business attire.  
 
A constant reminder of him throughout my day as I still feel him inside me, and can smell the scent of him all over me, with vivid snapshots rolling through my mind of the hour, before we rose.
 
They're moments to be treasured, and somewhere, those moments are stored away in one of the many compartments that exist within my mind.

Sometimes, I go there, just to reminisce and torture myself.  
 
Other times, something will trigger the memory centre, and the flashbacks will start to unravel until I’m trying to conceal my tears. He was like a creme brulee dessert, absolutely delicious.  
 
Each time I bake choc chip cookies, I can't help but smile as I'm reminded of where we were, that year.  
 
But sometimes, the tears resurface more oft than not, instead.  
 
How is it that we can cry for the things we never had the luxury of ever truly grasping.

Who knew that someone could run off with your heart, and leave you with a sensation of nothingness, and everything, all at the same time.
 
It's not healthy to go without being touched for too long.
 
Truth be told, I despise being held captive by someone that's miles and miles away.

Though, I acknowledge it's not his fault.

I shouldn't have been so flippant about what his intentions were, and who knows what his intentions were as he shows no remorse for the way in which he holds me captive.
 
Long distance bindings aren't what they're all cracked up to be, however, we aren't so far apart as we each linger in the depths of one another's heart.  
 
Maybe, I held onto that delusion for so long, because he planted those seeds of hope in the depths of me.
 
Sadly, there'll be no more I love you's, or thank you's. Just a whole lot of tears for what was meant to be, but never unfolded, as it should have.
 
Life is cruel like that, sometimes. Fate, is what it is, and he paved that pathway for the both us.  
 
What's the point in channeling my love towards him when neither of us are willing to compromise, and meet each other halfway.
 
He was stubborn, and doesn't believe in monogamy, much to my chagrin.
 
But, I'll keep my distance, and go through the motions until I've healed myself, from the loss.

Who knew I'd ever be feeling so grief stricken, and entirely, uncomfortable with this decision.  
 
I was so in love, and now, I feel like I'm on the cusp of death and I'm preparing for mourning his loss.
 
I just wanted to tell him, that I loved him but even that, would cause more pain because the realisations are what they are, I cannot deny those.  
 
I'm constantly reminded each morning I wake, and every evening that I lie my head upon my pillow that he’s not you, and neither of you are here, and he'll never be here for me like you are, because that’s the way I need him to be.  

It’s complicated.
 
Woe, is literally fucking me.