Life has winners and losers,

and sometimes the losing kills.

The loss stays while the girl’s gone

and you suffer the minutes.

Every minute.

Every breeze that touches your phone

shakes your serotonin and you grab,

a junkie with a needle,

just to find no sniff of the drug.

I want you to hurt and bleed and beg,

but you never will,

not for me.

So I wait by the phone

and no one calls.

The cold winds of the past beat

you

down,

and you watch the man you wanted to be fall apart

in a series of broken dreams

and bent promises.

Time claws away the old skin

and

no

new

skin

grows,

and I walk and push

and I stomp to hold my ground

against the endless,

endless,

endless.