Its surprising the conversation when you’re talking to the dead.
If I were alone id feel worthless and miniscule.
Honestly I miss you, because you made me wish I weren’t alive.
I knew I loved you because it pained me.
A thorn that’s long gone, but its sting still lingers.
My heads empty and I can’t find the trigger.
It’s hard to write today, there’s nothing logical, nothing spontaneous.
Not a thought.
These memories of mine are sure to fade