death* *(in your words) : the end of one's life.
but growing up has showed me that you don't have to be dead to actually be dead.
and since you've left ive found more
ways to die each night.
making a home out of our memories, stuck in summer when you told me you'd never leave, and here i am now searching for someone no longer here, hanging up all your i love you's on the wall to remind me. because at one point you did love me.
to be alive, and dead, is
like screaming your name over and over, and how much i never needed you, in hopes that eventually i will believe it myself.
i know you are doing better, i know you expected i could make it, like i could do this all alone, but all it feels like is as if you pulled my oxygen plug knowing i couldn't breathe on my own.
it's okay. im not blaming you. and at least in my dreams you still love me and we are okay.