Lately,
I keep having moments of mourning
the passing of the life I lived
of the boy full of masochism,
self-destructive determination,
ruled by pain
and fear.
In instances of stillness,
I close my eyes
and I'm back
on the bathroom floor
fading out once more.
I see the pain in her eyes
as I walk away,
again and again,
as I turn to stone.
Nostalgia fills my senses
but he is dead and gone
and I buried him deep.