This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
The prison of you. All the comfort of our Stockholm romance. My captor, my love, my pain. My pleasure, my tormentor, my treasure. So long I shackled myself willing to you. Until the day came, you called it in the beginning, “she was a happy girl the day that she left me”. Always your sour girl. Your electrifying touch, my heart and soul still sigh. Why is my heart still in that prison? With such reckless abandon and ecstasy you tare me down. All the rest work so hard to build me back up. How long will I mourn this funeral pyre of a relationship? It’s far too late to wake up. Our years flew by and not from joy. You scream at me to remember the good times. I beg you to acknowledge the pain you caused us all. Your refusal to see it is a slap in the face. There are other’s lined up, the offers, the proposals, the less than subtle innuendo. My worth with you more than second guessed. Lost in a history where I was never truly welcomed. Little boy I waited for you to become a man, it still hasn’t happened. The days spend lost in your eyes, embrace, and passion. My heart on my sleeve, to you just a play thing. So carelessly discarded and now it’s no longer yours to destroy. Eventually one day you’ll see. When it all comes together and you’re the outsider looking in. The love and happiness you’ll never again feel. The welcoming embrace you’ll never again receive. It all could have been you; there will be another in your place. Seek your solace, comfort, contentment in the dichotomy of your hollow freedom. You’ve faked it for the papers, but we all know exactly who you are. Your deeds done in darkness quickly coming to light. No longer your sour girl, a sour girl no more.