My present to you.

The room smelled like sex.

Me in work,

You somewhere else.

The days are passing and

The room still smells like sex.

Smoke too much.

It's the second day that this is happening to me. Two days in a row I'm all alone here. My place used to be full of voices, voices I hated, but then again still voices.

We had the same conversation about how we met and I realised that I'm so fucking bored of you. We have nothing else to say, so why do you keep wasting my time?

How on earth I can be with you? All you ever enjoyed after all is my red lips and your full wallet.

My front door is broken and I'm officially broke.