Words We Cannot Speak

Gone, Gone.

Gone, gone.
You've disappeared.
I expect you to just turn up
But that is just a delusion.
I expect you to be sitting there like you always have
But that is just a delusion.

One day you're here but the next I'm alone,
Lonely and painfully alone,
One day you told me you loved me,
Have and for an eternity will,
One day you joked around,
Laughing and infectiously smiling.
One day you were alive,
Living and alive.

This emptiness is an oblivion,
It causes destruction and numbness.
The numbness is like a form of pain-relief,
It lets me carry on through my, now, pointless life,
But it causes this agony, the agony of waiting for realisation to hit.
63 days, 15 hours, 41 minutes later I can't feel a thing.
My body is paralysed with the sense of not caring, not knowing, not feeling.

It's not your fault and not mine either
But I can't help but selfishly hate the world for causing this tedious sensation.
I don't want to die but I don't want to live.
I don't want to sleep but I don't want to wake.
I am stranded in between endless opposites and although I come across as indecisive, it's not that;
I just don't care enough anymore.
You're gone.

The world may as well be ending
For burning hurts less,
I hate that you're gone
And I'm the one left.
-H.B