There is still a weeping wound were you used to be inside of my heart
Your memory is a vast empty shell inside my soul, it is a hole in my vision where you used to stand
I miss you like a horrible sad song i miss the sound of your laughter when you've had to much weed i miss your constant belief in me i miss your eyes and the way they look at me i miss your trust and the way it carried me. I miss everything about you to your to skinny wrists to your inability to annoy me. I miss the way your voice sounds when you reassured me i miss the way you never quit believed i could never hate you i miss makeup dates and vogueing to amy Winehouse. I miss worrying about your eating habits i miss the connection to that part of my soul that belongs to you i miss wondering if i loved you i miss hoping you loved me to.
I miss only ever wanting the best for you
Even if that wasn't me.
YOU ARE READING
Silent as my screams
PoetryThings I could never say, thoughts I have on my depression and anxiety, and descriptions of fucked up life events. Over all a clusterfuck of fuck this that and the way i feel. Not angry, well not completely anyway, mostly just bitter self-loathing...
