w/o you, my life is a hospital waiting-room w harsh fluorescent lights and peeling lino on the floor? What you r doing to me is inhumane. The worst thing is that even in my waiting room, I’m all alone: There is no walking wounded, no bleeding heart to reassure me, no magazines on the coffee-table to take my mind off things, no numbered ticket which might allow me to hope that one day my wait till end. My stomach aches, and there’s no one to nurse me better. Love is an ache in the pit of my stomach, and you re the only cure
( Love lasts 3 years)