Think about it…

I know I should write to you more often but you make me bloody mad. I know this whole long distance thing get on your nerves but you were supposed to love me forever, if you cannot recall. Love is not a bed of rosy petals and there has to be some sacrifices and patience, without ripping each other’s throats. Think of me, if you really love me. When I cry and wake up with a throbbing pain in my head, you know I have no one to ruffle my hair.

Think about it next time you hurt me.






Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s