We are the saddest love story that I never read. That is why I never wrote us.

The girl on the side. The boy in the middle. The sneaky kisses that backfired and the cheeky fuck I had with karma. The ultimate betrayal mixed in with the hips that could lie so well. slut, prick, bitch, cunt. Make a care, make a mess, make a fuck (and that's what we did the best). We always were the ultimate wrong, everything was bad about us. We would hurt each other and break the best parts. We hated being together but couldn't handle each other being with anyone else. Those poor weapons of mass destruction that thought we loved them. We could lie and cheat and it was like an addiction, obsession. There are times when I hate you, there's years when I hate you, but I'm sure its mutual.

It was the sneaky kisses and the cheeky fuck that ruined what we were meant to be. What do you feel when you see me now? What do you wish that you could take back? I see that filthy prostitute that you fucked for no good reason, other than your eighteenth birthday. What is it you see? Is it the boy I loved that you made me cheat? Is it the boy I used to get you back? Is it the boy who tried so very hard to change the past that I was trying to re-create? Because I bet there is so much that both of us would take back, but that's just impossible.

When we're cold we're cold, but when we're hot we're oh so hot.

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