more from "fuck my life"..

Watching the man i adored, the man who had groped my heart with his love, now grope this badly dressed fat whores arse, and with the same hands that i had held, and that had held me, hands that had made me feel so safe, hands that had delighted me between the thighs to rampant rabbit standards. It was too much. Fuck this, i thought. I was leaving, but not before necking the remainder of my double vodka, a dubious attempt to deaden this pain even slightly. I staggerd out of the nightclub and over to a nearby wall, where i plonked my drunk self down, and began to cry. I cried for me, for us, for our wonderfull love that was dead, and for my tights, my beautiful lace tights, my 10 quid a fucking pair tights !! that were, after several drunken falls, equally as torn as my soul.

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Comments

  • Light-Rain
    Light-Rainabout 4 years ago

    sorry to hear of this tragedy

  • Trenchtownrock
    Trenchtownrockabout 4 years ago

    Keep em coming love..this is writing that makes the legs shake with excitement..my style..raw and truth..let them keep their fucking sunshine.

  • Gini G
    Gini Gabout 4 years ago

    I second that…keep these snippets coming!

  • alleyclown
    alleyclownover 1 year ago

    Sweetie… the soul is priceless. But never were those tights 10 quid! /wink

    I’ve been in the crying alley, on the opposite side of the bin, painted smile, necking vodka for the pain.

    Has it gotten any easier for her now? Shall I expect the same?

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