Everything is slowly falling apart. He doesn’t even care anymore. Yea, these two years were great, but how can I even look at him the same way? I want to hate him. I want to hit him so hard so he can feel maybe an ounce of what I am feeling. Why can’t I hate him? Why can’t I just forget him? Never to think or to speak his name again. That isn’t possible. For every night when I turn my head to my side table and turn my lamp off. He is there. The last image I see before bed and the first too see when I awaken. I really should take the picture down but I just can’t. It belongs there. It breathes there. It has left its imprint. Just like how he has left his imprint on me. Forever to remain tattooed to my heart.
Slowly, yet surely.
April 28, 2011