I crave warmth in all forms. The longer moments when I can’t think or sleep or feel anything but sorrow, really. A burning inside which craves the most pungent of drinks- gin, *****,  whiskey, it wouldn’t matter right now- what I would do to have one shot. How the feeling would rush over me, the calmness which would wash all the rest away- any bad feeling. Even if for just awhile.

I try to imagine that you were a figment of my imagination; maybe an imaginary friend. Well, lover. An imaginary fiance- would I erase you, if I could? Still I’m not sure. It’s nights like this, so many later and after everything, the good and bad, when thoughts like this cross my mind. Something, some moment we’d shared will come back to me out of nowhere- like being blindsided. I’m  happy for a moment, remembering the good times. But then the heavy sadness swells up in my heart again as it must, in my ******* soul. My eyes well up. Because I am picturing you in your life right now- somewhere far away but still too close- always too close- killing yourself slowly. Remembering how it was all a lie. All a lie. And I am overcame. I am sure that wherever you are now, you don’t think of me anymore.
It's for the best.