THERES THIS SCARY PART OF ME THAT DREAMS OF DYING ON YOUR COUCH

pain can be like water, it will fill any void left by loss. maybe it soothes, even. But to hold water in a wound is to beg for infection. To let it grow still is to rot.

dont worry, i'm forgetting you just like you want me to you just didnt want me, too

if my arms could reach so far i would shove my fingers in your mouth so that you could feel the tears i have dried using them

i hope you feel half as terrible as i do, i hope the teeth of nostalgia graze upon you what they bite out of me. if only to know what you have saved yourself from in selfishness

i have done my own share of this pain to others but its sting is no less sharp

to miss someone more than they could think of you is a terrible feeling