You always write for and because of her. Well, why wouldn't you? She, who took away the most space in you; would I even matter?
You lose yourself, intoxicated by the thought of her. But still, she filled your consciousness even when you're sober.
I heard you came knocking at your own door with eyes red and tensed jaws. I noticed blood on your hands and I knew then that your plan went through.
I let you in and gave you your keys. "How far did you go?" I asked offering a bottle of cold beer. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't **** the man she loves."
You covered your face with both your hands. I tried to calm you down. "Everything will be okay" I said as I felt my hands trembling reaching for the gun.
I smirked as I placed your cold hands firmly around your gun. I wrote, "To Daisy, you are as warm as the yellow sun. But you left me no choice and use this gun." A farewell fit for you since you always wrote for her.
Written on 20:12 September 23, 2017
I still think this is not good enough, so I may change this again and again as I have for many times.