When I’m alone… I think of you.
It’s kind of sick, like some sort of unhealthy addiction.
When you left me, I thought I was dying.
But ever since then,
The entire two long, lifeless years…
you’ve continued to kill me slowly.
To the point where I’m shocked that there are parts of me that have yet to die.
I’m addicted to thinking of you. Memories of you.
Memories of the way I felt when you looked at me… how it felt to fall asleep in your arms.
Even how it felt to find you with her..
So strong. So distant.
I’ve been so numb since, that the memory of the feelings reminds me that I was alive, once.
The pain, the love, the desire..
of which I cling to,
only by torturing myself with memories of you.