It's been awhile since I've thought of you,
but I suppose that's because I don't allow myself to think of you anymore.

I don't remember the day I stopped breathing,
It's been so long.
Guilt was a stranger on my doorstep and he sunk his cold hands deep in the pit of my heart;  An abyss he consumed from fall, an abyss that still hangs in his mouth.
Sorrow has him famished.

Your bones had bested me into the shambles of reason. I could not help that your ivory soul stood in my reckless wake, nor that my fingers craved more than the garden that was your skin. I should have known my tongue had diseased your mind with unkept promises.

"You sad soul," the bathroom mirror hissed whenever I swallowed those pills.  The door is all but welcoming, and I stand praying for comfort within the grain.

A regular reservation I had on my rooftop with Guilt served most of my years. We basked under that sea of stars.  I watched one night as he coaxed a few into a glass jar.  
It cowers on my desk still.