I spend my days in silence. Staring at my bookcase. At the paintings hanging on the wall, depicting women in various erotic poses.
I spend my days in vivid contemplation. At life’s many colors, mostly in the darker shades of the spectrum. At the various struggles of my mere futile existence.
I spend my days in timid prayer. To the many gods and goddesses that I have worshiped throughout my lifetime; so that they may, one day, respond and finally grant me the sugar-daddy of my wildest dreams.
I spend my days in useless daydreaming. Of becoming one day, the woman you wanted me to be. Of never disappointing you, or myself. Of living up to your expectations and never letting you down. Of eternally loving you. Of waking up next to you on those days, when I’m feeling purposeless and you making things alright. I resist the urge to talk to you. Again and again.
Wishing In silence, in vivid contemplation, in silent prayer, in useless daydreaming, that you were still here.