Friday, June 28, 2013

and I know I'm dead inside, I'm reminded every night.

Can I shed my skin? I feel as though I am. I hear the words sung out loud and there's a part of me wanting to be with her in her moments of truth. I know the point that I am currently at in my life is due to my rapid gunfire anger and stupid words. Can I apologise and ask for her love again? Could I keep pretending that she thinks about me like I do her?

I ask. I ask so many questions as I lay in the rain next to a piece of land that holds the body of my amazing Noni. The tears run warm through the rain.

What's the point of life? The music has lost meaning without her. I don't know how to regain the happiness I once treasured. I sit and wonder if my lies to myself are worth the pain I feel. I once used these words on this page to forget what I thought was love, and it killed her to read them. I wish I could explain why I wrote them, most of the stories fictional. Stories of the real love of my life deserves words written about her like sentimental novels made to pull at your heart strings. I turn 'I still feel her' on the headphones and listen to a voice I rejected for so long. I listen to her new songs and hope the music is about me, but reality hits and I know that some lucky person is entering her heart. Maybe he will treat her better and love her in a way I never did.

I just wish she would just say those three words. It would fix all the pain. It would ease my heart. Nobody will ever read this and know that this one person loves someone so much that their life is deteriorating without her touch. Her granddaughter as she called her, is forever in my heart and hers.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Anonymous letter Part One.

Sometimes misery is a taste that feels far too right. I could blame her a million times over, but the truth would always win. She turned off the dark road that was me and found a way out of my loving clamp. I could never say I did all this because of hate, nor because of love. As far back as I can remember my biggest problem has been my insecurities. Of them, I have many. 


Her letter said it all, and left me broken in so many pieces  unretrievable to all. I have made the choice to 'punish' her and flaunt how much better I am doing since the letter, but the truth is I have slowly fallen apart since. In my personal life, every choice I have made has been at times shameful and soul crushing. I have forgotten who I am and was. Misery loves my company, and I deserve the misery.

I am not sorry for loving her, just sorry for wasting her time while she blessed my heart with hers.