darling, i should never call you that. "darling"- it's a synonym for everything i used to feel with you and all the guilt which follows it. so badly have i wanted to stop using it, to stop referring to you as that, but your name hurts too much.
darling, did i ever mention that i traveled to the moon? because i did, on a night where the earth was spinning too quickly that all the colours bled into one and the painting made me *****. it's not a kind story and ever since then, i haven't been kind either.
darling, what's the difference between heartache and dying? i'm tasting flakes of flaming ash on my tongue and it's scorched my mouth so bad i cannot speak everything i feel (not that i would've anyway). you're everything drawn on the back of my eyelids and everything knifing my stomach and everything, oh god, you're everything.
darling, you're nothing, you're absolutely nothing, you don't mean a thing to me.
darling, i realise that seems ironic but i've never been anything but that. i've been treading on the moonlight and inhaling charcoal and the bullet-wounds have cracked against the silence of your absence.