Jun 2017
I don't go out as often as before
Tired of the questions asking
where you are
What went wrong
The same robotic response on my end;
things just didn't work out.
Couldn't work out is more like it.
& then the empty apologies & the non comforting cliche "it's for the best" because they want to say something helpful but quickly realize they're making it worse. the anguish in my eyes is so obvious; even while fabricating a smile across my lips.
I've never been good at pretending.
It's obvious they feel embarrassed for asking & now they begin to stumble over words while looking for an excuse to cut the conversation short. Nobody likes to talk to a dead person. Small talk ends with "I'm always here if you need anything at all" Which translates to "you won't hear from me again".
I stray clear of social media because it's become apparent that Satan runs Facebook & although the torturous track down memory lane sounds about as fun as kidney stones, I oddly enough would not like to see these "memories" from 2 years ago; honestly I'd rather gargle broken glass but I appreciate the gesture.
I avoid certain stores, foods, songs, & even take longer routes to work just in an attempt not to stumble upon old reminders of us.
Even though I could never go anywhere or do anything ever again & you'd still haunt my every thought. Your parasitic implant seems to have no end.
You inhabit my dreams. Like a puppeteer, you manipulate the strings of my mind & force me to act out the nightmares you caused me to live in that I've worked to escape for so long. My conscious is strong, my subconscious on the other hand could use some work. Memories I've suppressed so deep; you find, & you bring them right back to the surface & it's as if I never left. Paralyzed in a deep sleep I can feel your hands around my throat & hear you screaming through clenched teeth that I didn't love you. Oh the irony in that will never cease to amaze me. I even got a hint of your smell, how mesmerizing & revolting at the same time. But this time I'm watching it AND living it, but can't do anything to stop it. I woke up to discover fresh bruises that morning. How do you do that?
Every time I pray to God your name finds its way into the conversation...
We don't talk as much as we use to.
Tired of the questions asking
where you are
What went wrong
The same robotic response on my end;
things just didn't work out.
Couldn't work out is more like it.
& then the empty apologies & the non comforting cliche "it's for the best" because they want to say something helpful but quickly realize they're making it worse. the anguish in my eyes is so obvious; even while fabricating a smile across my lips.
I've never been good at pretending.
It's obvious they feel embarrassed for asking & now they begin to stumble over words while looking for an excuse to cut the conversation short. Nobody likes to talk to a dead person. Small talk ends with "I'm always here if you need anything at all" Which translates to "you won't hear from me again".
I stray clear of social media because it's become apparent that Satan runs Facebook & although the torturous track down memory lane sounds about as fun as kidney stones, I oddly enough would not like to see these "memories" from 2 years ago; honestly I'd rather gargle broken glass but I appreciate the gesture.
I avoid certain stores, foods, songs, & even take longer routes to work just in an attempt not to stumble upon old reminders of us.
Even though I could never go anywhere or do anything ever again & you'd still haunt my every thought. Your parasitic implant seems to have no end.
You inhabit my dreams. Like a puppeteer, you manipulate the strings of my mind & force me to act out the nightmares you caused me to live in that I've worked to escape for so long. My conscious is strong, my subconscious on the other hand could use some work. Memories I've suppressed so deep; you find, & you bring them right back to the surface & it's as if I never left. Paralyzed in a deep sleep I can feel your hands around my throat & hear you screaming through clenched teeth that I didn't love you. Oh the irony in that will never cease to amaze me. I even got a hint of your smell, how mesmerizing & revolting at the same time. But this time I'm watching it AND living it, but can't do anything to stop it. I woke up to discover fresh bruises that morning. How do you do that?
Every time I pray to God your name finds its way into the conversation...
We don't talk as much as we use to.
