Love is hard, so I'll write about it.

not enough

I feel as if you have died.
I feel as if I have died and gone to hell. Life without you is hell.

I miss your face. I haven't looked at the pictures we took, though I still have them. It hurts to think of your face.

Something so beautiful, how can it bring me such unspeakable pain. I don't think I want to delete those pictures. I don't think I want to look at them.
But, I will have to eventually.

Knowing that, it kills me. Knowing that we are done. Finished. Ended for good.

I feel so broken without you.
So numb.

I, I don't want to do this without you.

It feels like there a hole inside of my chest. A place where there once lived my heart. A little cracked, a bit chipped. But still intact, still somewhat whole. Now, it's shattered.
I ripped my heart out, and I willingly gave it to you. We shared it. I made it beat, and you gave me a reason to. I dropped it. We dropped it. But, you left me to pick up the pieces alone. Only to come back to say sorry, and steal some of the broken pieces.

Sorry doesn't fix a shattered heart. It doesn't fix the cuts on my hands while I try to fix my heart.

We've caused so much pain. So much hurt. I don't know how to deal with this.

Yet, I want to know how you're doing. How you're dealing. I want to know how your day went. How your visit with your grandmother was.

I want to know. But I won't ask because maybe you're better off healing alone.

I used to think we were soul mates. That you were my angel, the light sent from above to save me from the darkness. Now, I think maybe you were the devil. Not because you are evil. But because I gave my soul to you. I gave my all to you. But, our demons were too much and our love was not enough.

That's ironic. Almost laughable. Our love was not enough. Yet, it was too much for me to handle. Not enough to keep us together, or even happy.

not enough, for you, for me.

not enough.