It’s funny how a year has passed but we’ve circled back to our beginning.
Not funny, ha ha, but funny fuck me because that’s exactly what this is doing to me.
I’m not eating, or thinking, or even dancing at this point.
I’m simply spending every moment of every day trying not to collapse under the weight of this fucking sorrow.
I’m trying to move forward, this I swear.
But I can’t seem to find my momentum.
I’m just standing here, shattering, and you can’t be bothered and now I’m fucking crying again.
If only you’d stayed gone another month or two.
I could have stood a fucking chance.
I could have pretended you never meant a fucking thing to me.
But I was still too raw, too emotionally eviscerated.
I stood there bleeding out and breathing you in.
Even when I could feel it changing. Even when I could feel you leaving.
I couldn’t find the words amongst all this fucking clutter and half-assed prose.
I had nothing that would make you stay.
I simply said I’ll always love you.
That I didn’t know how not to.
And broke into a thousand shards of glass.
It’s totally fine, I’ve got it, don’t cut yourself love.
Only one of us needs to bleed to death for us.