Dear Amelia,
How have you been? I know it’s out of the blue and even more likely you won’t read this letter. But I must get some things off my chest. I have tried so many things to alleviate the pain reigning over me but all to no avail. It’s okay, I’m just trying to let you know I miss you. I have no expectations of you coming back to me, but I’d just like to say that you’re still the one consuming my days and nights and every drink I pour has been in an attempt to not think of you, if only for a minute. Maybe someday I will stop thinking of you.

Perhaps someday we’ll learn how to live our lives without fear of falling apart the mere touch of another human being. Maybe someday we’ll let someone special into our hearts, see the ugly parts we hide from everyone else. Until then, I’ll keep you deep within my heart. The boldest I’d ever been in my life was when I tore myself open right in front of you. Magically, you didn’t run away. You took good care of me and years later, when you finally revealed the broken pieces lodged deep within your barren soul, I did my best to pull them out and sew the open wounds. My God, we did so well for each other.

I often wonder when things began to fall apart. Was it when our wounds were healed and our souls began seeking something else in this ****** up world? Even now I grieve for the things we achieved together and the things we’ll never experience together. The thought of never picking a wedding dress with you kills me every time. I’ll never get to put a ring on your finger. I’ll never watch you walk down the aisle, glowing under the May sun (because you always said you wanted to get married on May 15th). I’ll never get to spend the first night in our hard-earned home somewhere in the suburb or a new apartment in the city. I wonder sometimes if you remember me fondly… or if you even think about me from time to time. Men have always been the weaker ***, far more prone to sentimentality and regret. And, well. I am regretting hard right now. We did so much good for each other but, God, I wish I did so much more. Anyways, I hope you are doing well. I pray that God is kind to you night before bed.

Maybe one day we’ll be able to talk to each other again. As old friends.
Until then…

Can I die from a broken heart?
If I smile through the agony
Will it tear me apart?
Or will I somehow be ok?

If I drag myself out of bed
Clear the poisonous thoughts
Out of my fragile head
Will I somehow be ok?

Can I die from a broken heart?
Should I lay here and never leave
Or rise and focus on a fresh start
Tell me which do I choose?

When all is said and done
And I chose the latter of the two
Would that mean that he has succeeded?
In truly breaking me

Harsh Cold Winter

It’s a harsh cold winter
You’re gone and I’m so bitter
I sat front-row seat
As I watched our love wither

Heart gouged by the splinters
You’ve silenced your ringer
And my feelings for you
Oh, they still linger…

It’s a harsh cold winter
Choked sobs and silent whimpers
Sparks of love burned out
Leaving ashes and cinder

Sleepless nights
Bottles of whiskey
Skipped meals
My love, do you miss me?

It’s a harsh cold winter
I’ve always been an overthinker
Should I move on? Or reach out?
letting my healing progress hinder

Week old sheets that smell of you
Tears as wide as the ocean
People come and go
But all I ever wanted was your devotion

He longs to be close to me,
like a moth to a matchstick.
But god,
he's drawn to any pretty light.
Blinded, hungry, dizzy.

Fluttering erratically, just to feel something.
Life is too short.
One day, all the lights go out.
It's all he can think about.

He’s pretty, he  gleams like the fresh morning dew;
Often I picture myself waking up next to you.
But vines they invade those beautiful dreams;
Piercing my thoughts with thorns oh so sharp.
Because under that rose tinted facade,
Rests the roots of this bush, warped, gnarled, and odd.
So I guess what I mean to say;
But not in a mean way;
This rosebush needs pruning, my babe.