First Love Another boy was in my bed tonight, not you. When he kissed my, my mind ran to you, and i felt guilty, even though we both are apart, so I pushed him away, carefully, as to not break the tension that had filled the air. As if my kisses were not worthy of him because they were not shared with you. And later on, trying to fall asleep, I felt a chill, not the cold kind, but the kind that seeps into your bones and makes your limbs ache. And then I realised that maybe it was just my heart. I figured that this really was the end of us. That everything we had done, I would have to sweep into the dark crevices of my lungs, because after you, I've found it hard to breathe. This was the first time I properly cried after we have broken up. And it still doesn't feel like I'm satisfied enough, as if the taste of your tongue tracing mine, still isn't strong enough until you are here again. And it's sad, because I was in love with you, but now I'm not. I've fallen into this emptiness that's swallowed up my emotions and left me numb and full of face about us 'fucking', when it wasn't, I was selling my heart. I know this is the end, because instead of embracing the lack of heat I find here, I'm facing away from it, trying to find my way into the darkness, that for once, feels warmer. I feel empty and numb, but also more alive than ever. And for that, I'm forever grateful for finally accepting and letting go of my first love.