My heart’s breaking among disapeared smiles, difficult offerts, and some cheap red wine. I’m not proud and I really don’t recomend it but when you feel lonely it’s easy to warm someone’s bed trying to pretend you believe they care although it’s just rough sex. While I’m getting off my ripped jeans his hands draw my hips trying to get to that hidden paradise, not hidden enough, the light wet us under the roof of his place where my tears and regrets stay, once again. Every weekend I finish in this same madness, with no time to rethink about the fact he’s already touching me deeply, getting wet, angry, frustated, desired… but not loved yet. At first his shoulders are so light, then little a little they become heavier and I feel his weight on me, as shit inside of my mind, why, why, why. I close my eyes wishing this to not happen again, I can’t stand this fucking state, never better said, too much alcohol and sadness never got along pretty well and now there’s one lost woman with her underwear on someone’s chair who cannot think by herself with so much tequila in her veins, oh God, help her/me or whoever is because I lost the faith in me, in this no-name-guy, in last night party, in everything which matters but in you.