I’ve given up on

love,

I’ve given up on

relationships,

and I’m trying to give up on

lust

altogether.

Since when

has it ever been worth it?

Hours upon hours

spent crying

over the loss

of someone whom

you obviously

didn’t know

as well as you thought;

that feeling

thought-out

your entire body,

liked you got punched

in the stomach

eighteen times

in a row

and then had your

intestines ripped out

through your

belly-button;

like your ribs

were cracked

just enough to

puncture your lungs

and let them

slowly deflate

over the next

few weeks.

How could

love,

lust,

men,

boys,

possibly be worth

that?