I find out the precious life of yours is gone.
Denial screams back into my head.
No this is not true.
You cannot be gone.
I plead and plead on hands and knees crawling like a kicked puppy.
All in my head of course.
That's not the type of lady you want to be like.
A faint memory of my grandmother scolding me.
To me it fits the piece.
How dare I show uncontrollable emotions in public.
If public is considered my house that is.
I excuse myself that is what a lady must do a reinforced thought on proper etiquette that crosses the line of mental abuse.
I take a shower, the one place I can be left alone with my actual thoughts.
No tears come because denial is the only friend that doesn't abandon me.
I scrub and scrub my whole body.
I do this it wash away the stains.
The existance of you.
And all that did remain.
All the emotions that came from your lack of air.
I hold my breathe to feel close to you.
Useless I scream.
Another part of me dies tonight.
I deeply miss you.
In ways that my feelings cannot express.
my dismal attitude is still there,
although the downcast of my emotions
hit it's peak yesterday. today i am deranged and infuriated. not by the fact that i am alone, which is my preference, but at way the irking wind blew against my sleeve on my way to class this morning.
i despise the contented souls who have never fantasized about death and it's properties.
I wrote a f-cking poem for you.
You tell me how they broke your heart and how you wished for someone who would love all your broken parts.
You'd say "She treated me like dirt" followed by a shrug. Then you turn your back to me when I lean in for a hug?
I think you're in denial, my attempts are plain to see.
So now you won't remember all those hours in your room, where I let you break all over me?
You ungrateful little sh-t.
What about that time I covered you with blankets and let you make me sick?
Blah blah blah...
I imagine your eyes right now, rolling back. "Whatever Mel, boo hoo."
But I wrote a f-cking poem for you.