I zone out sometimes and in the back of my mind
I can still hear your whispers that sent chills up my spine
and though they're three years old I hear them boldly,
quiet hushes play louder than music I turn up all the way
so that no one can hear me screaming about how it's been a year
and I have not healed yet
sometimes I wonder if I ever will or
if this is what I am ****** to forever,
I asked god once if he was real simply because
I could not feel anything for days,
I searched frantically in cigarette boxes
for cement feelings gone and lost,
I found ***** change and pocket lint, but
not love, nor pain and I thought
only he could take that away
but it went and came
in viscious waves
that drag me in and
tides that drown me in memories
I forgot how to swim for survival when I spent years
with my head barely at the surface just to catch my breath
I tried to leave behind last spring in hallways of buildings
marked "condemned" now
and I asked him what it meant, God,
to not believe in him but to want to
because someone had to be at blame for this pit in my chest
I tried to map it out by pinpointing stars that mimicked sharp jolts
on my heart but I only connected old words you said
into sentences that still eat away at my brain in my head
and I wonder what the **** I did to deserve this
unbearable rememberance
for someone who forgot me well before they even left

you said alright
when I said I was leaving
and I should have known there
to pack my bags and stop treating it
like some well-written romance novel,
because your care was fleeting the first time
you saw who I really was and I forgot what it was
to trust someone with absolutely everything
because when you left I had absolutely nothing