Anaconda

 Me and my lovers ! a story of tears, cuts and blood. I look at the album of my memory. The pictures of the moments when i stopped thinking and started expressing. At that time i called it expression of love, now the name changed, the word SIN imposes itself, as hurtful and fearful as it is. This does not mean that i retired ! if i am to do the same tomorrow, i will call it expression of love then a sin if i come to regret it later.

It is weird, it is me! I leaf through the album. Everything hurts. I watch the pics devoid of love even if i have done so solely for love ! if i turn back the hands of time? I suppose i would do the same ! so why regret at all? Because i need love i did not get.