seven years ago I used to write everyday 
because if I didn’t write,

I was a day closer to cutting the chord,

snapping the pen,

holding my breath until I couldn’t anymore,

but now I write at 3 am, most nights,

when the hum of the ceiling fan keeps me awake

and my mind slowly runs back and forth like a constantly ticking time clock that never run out of batteries

but now I don’t write with substance 

I write in circles 

and none of it makes any sense,

nor has relevance,

I blame you, for taking my soul with you,

when you gave up on yourself 

and I still believed in you

I blamed myself for awhile,
it wasn't me,
it was you.

I sleep on the right side of the bed,
even though I used to sleep on the left,
or sometimes in the middle,
constantly waking you up for sounding like a pig while you slept.

I don't do the dishes right away anymore,
part of me is waiting for you to knock on the door.

I don't like to drink alcohol because your face has consumed my brain, and just one sip, just one drink, just one shot, is not enough.
Neither is seven.

I am trying so hard to be the bigger person,
to move on,
to grow up,
to mend my broken heart of all of its contusions.

But, broken hearts are not easily mended, and loneliness is not easily fixed when you only have yourself.

Time is the motto,
and patience is the key.

each month seems to get easier
and the everyday routine
is more familiar

the black and white world
slowly regains color once again

if I could count the times
I've second guessed my decisions
in the past few months
I would be counting for hours,
maybe days,
or maybe months.

I've experienced
the black hole,
the dead end,
the wrong turn.

I've experienced life.

when I came home I laid
with all my clothes on
sinking into my bed
then fell asleep

it was comforting
being held by cotton
for the night
it reminded me of you

everyday I have slept
in these clothes
that I don’t like

because they remind me
of how your blankets
hugged my hips
and your velvet hands
touched my skin

I’ve slept in my clothes
every night since then
and now it has
become a habit
I’m not really
reminded
of you
anymore

I am emotionally exhausted,
fighting demons in my head
every minute I'm still
breathing.

It's hard feeling...
anything.