The thuds in my chest stopped being my heart a long time ago- my feelings ceased, and maybe me, the initial person I was, is knocking on my ribs begging for freedom. Throughout all the voices in my head, his is the lowest, getting tangled in with all the killers that took him, torturing him until he's nothing but a headstone. You don't see it, but I do, how I open my mouth to speak, and he's accepted I just won't accent my words the way he used to. My disappointment tore up your eyes, as you saw the person I was formed by a web of lies I loved to string up, and tried to pretend I wasn't struggling to get out-
All feedback is welcome I wanted to do something emotional, I hope this conveys that.