One, two, or maybe three of them have left. I, maybe me, had something to do with it.
He went to that store and I should have seen it, what he was going to do. But what I don't understand is why.
His life, many would envy. His looks, to die for. His heart, where I once was living. He held me so tight when I was hurt. He never let anyone lay a single finger on me. He loved me and always would.
Why would I go and rip out his heart? He loved me dearly, and I made him who he used to be. When he does this it kills me. Its my fault he is like this. If it weren't for me he would be that sweet and innocent guy I made him when I was his.
A week past, then two. I worry about what he has done. I haven't heard from him in weeks. My guilt overwhelms me. I cannot eat, sleep, or even function not knowing what he is doing, where he is, and if he's okay.
April 12th came. Two months have passed and I've heard nothing. In the mail that next day... My eyes had wished to deceive.
My heart sank and dropped to my stomach. This piece of paper was telling me to go to this location at this time.
Him would be forever buried... Six feet under the ground he forever will lay, due to one of my simple actions..
