3

Maybe I‘m a bad sport.

Maybe I don‘t have the guts to admit a loss.

Maybe tasting your lips is even more torturing than having you away from me.

Maybe it‘s because of the undeniable truth, trickling like acid through the corners of my mind, every time you give an illusion of affection.

Maybe my mind is making up the illusions itself.

Maybe because I’m a bad sport.

Maybe it’s because I don’t have the guts to admit a loss.

Stubbornness ? Yes.

Ambitions ? Oh, yes.

Vanity ? Sure.