My leg hurts, and it's not even the leg that I smashed on the hard wood floor this morning, while jumping out of bed to stop you from leaving. Maybe this is my memoir of you, my last hurtful memory to think of you by. They always did say that love hurts.

Behind my pretty smile, there's a thick film coating my teeth; and I can't help but run my tongue over it to see if it tastes like you. I’m not sure if it does or not, ‘cause my taste buds become extinct after I open a bottle of tequila, and half of it is gone. Slurred words and teary eyed expressions are all that is left of me.

And I'm sure that you think it’s not your fault. It's never your fault. Nothings ever your fault.

But when I could feel my heart beating inside my stomach, and my tongue became hot and bitter as my temples were pulsating; I clenched my teeth and thought of you.

You: the one whose name had been written on my heart with a number two pencil. Everyone knows that pencil markings fade away through time. Just like our love.

But that's ok.. 1 hour and 45 minutes ago I had to crawl across my living room floor because my heart broke into 317 minuscule pieces. I picked up as many pieces as possible and glued them back together with my hot glue gun, but not every piece was found; so I guess my heart will never be complete again.