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I bleed in tears from the lost feelings and thoughts of you.
I’m left to disintegrate in your memory as a mistake.
I move on now, though the wound has yet to heal;
I either stitch myself together again,
or I bleed to the point of numbness.
Though the remedy is an important variable in the equation,
the result is still the same.
As if I were some sort of emotional masochist,
I know that complete sensory deprivation is inevitable:
I don’t want to hear your voice,
I don’t want to see your beautiful façade,
and I don’t want to remember you at all.
I’m left with less then I began.
I came to you with independence, now I’m a beggar.
I came to you with trust, now I am a hermit.
I came to you with dignity, now I am reduced to a dog,
I’ll return to my vomit before the nights end.
To think that any fortress would not fall after this type of affliction is a misconception.
Thankfully, it is not death that I fear,
but my life after this much hurt.
I don’t have to live in fear anymore;
I’m already as good as dead.
Thanks to you….