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You don't have a heart, you have an immense wasteland watered with anger and lies, a place so dry where the wind of pride blows and grows the only plant you eat, conceit.
You need caresses, but one who offers Nothingness like you, when he gets them, he doesn't recognize them.
You are like an old pc, obsolete, but beautiful in its antique, vintage, collectible look.
Those like me, if ever they had a feeling for you, once they have tasted the bitterness of your poor soul, they decide to put you in a shelf of memory, they would cry for a while I know, however, with time, they would learn to look at you with the eyes you deserve.
One day, looking back, among the thousands of women you have f@cked, you will remember that little caress made of love that you received. The one you refused.
The hand that gave it to you, that knows by heart the edges of your cheek and even more the blade of your words, went away from you. She knew very well that she would not see you again, she understood how pointless it would be to live with your empty disposable.
There are choices you make to save yourself and sometimes, giving up the poison rather than letting go of it, changes your life for the better.