"I do care though, I promise."
These are the last words you said to me at this exact moment in time. I'm lying in bed and all I can think of the the time we were walking through London, tired and lost and we didn't know where we were going and I was telling you a story and you weren't listening to a word I was saying. It was then that I decided I should quieten down, a man could never love a woman with a motormouth like mine and from that day onwards I tried my best to keep myself to myself. I bottle things up now to the point where the glass smashes when it gets too full and everything comes out but it's okay because it's not coming from me, it's coming from somewhere else and when I asked you how you'd know if someone cared you told me they'd be there for you. You were never here so you never heard the words that came out when the glass shattered. You never heard and you were never around to see what would happen after, you were never around to see what I would do to myself with the broken pieces that were left on the floor for me to clean up. It doesn't happen often and for that, I am glad, but when it hits it hits hard and you should know that. You should be here because now I'm left questioning whether or not you care, and because of the fact that you taught me to stay quiet I can't even confront you about these things. And now I've always been bad with endings, so I'll say goodbye in the form of broken glass and ****** hands because this is the end.
who needs proofreading when you've got a bottle of *****