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.