4,442,000 and you overlooked each digit, taking the love I gave to you for granted. 219 to transfer each ounce of fucks I gave about you that ran through my veins. 561,200 the price at which each breath I shared with you cost.
27,000 for each tear drop that was shed.
1,095 the number you chose to stop counting at.
In a world that revolves around the root of all evil, money could buy a heart, blood, a lung, an eye.
But in that same world it couldn’t buy my love, it couldn’t buy us time, and it couldn’t buy enough morphine and anesthetics to help me forget you ever walked this earth, to help me forget what it felt like to fall apart, to help me forget I could ever give someone every part of me without getting a fucking penny in return.
About the Creator
Nicole Lara
‘Til death we do art.
Expressing myself seems a lot simpler and more beautiful when my thoughts are in written form.
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