ififififif

If our love was some creature that we had and i had smothered with my own intentions, it was basically your love and all the flesh had rotted away until it was just a bone, a smooth hard bone.  I held this bone with a kind of detached fascination. It still existed to me and i thumbed it over constantly. I felt it, flawless and real. I felt the structure of it, in all its truth, in all it had ever been ; in its most exposed form.  I held on to it. I still do. I will never let it go.  All the flesh has rotted away. I will never let it go.

Of course it meant nothing you dumbass.  Of course it meant nothing.