Every time I realize I'll never again get to hold her late at night, I'll never again get to be in those intimate moments with her when her heart is beating and her face is smiling and she is happy, I realize there is no inspiration left in my life. Every motivation I ever knew was because I wanted to make her world a pleasant place. Every word I wrote, every flower I sent, every look I gave and every touch I made was meant to please her. When I think of her and I see her smile, I dream of writing her gorgeous songs, of captivating her attention, of explaining properly what she does to me, of fulfilling her heart.
I wish I could give her everything. I wish I was the one for her.
I never cared for anyone like I care for them both. And I never felt an emptier more fiery missing. It doesn't matter how hard I try to rebuild myself, I crumble at every memory.
I have no heart.
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