Cool, sharp, deadly.
I press it to my chest.
Squashing it to me so tightly it becomes another part of me.
It cuts me, torments me, breaks me into pieces.
I do not bleed.
I surpass grief and feel only a dull ache now.
I surpass anger, a pointless emotion that only makes me feel worse and had no effect on anyone else.
I barely remember happiness.
What is it? Does it even truly exist anymore?
Perhaps for some, but not for me.
I know better than to hope for anything other than this,
This dark abyss I call my future, my home, my life.
Where are the angels?
Have they too, forsaken me?
Where is God, any God, any help in my time of need?
No, perhaps not even God, just give me answers,
Have I not earnt that much?
Taunting smiles, pitied glances, screaming whispers,
I take it all.
Anything is better than silence.
I am left alone.
Damaged goods.
I do not cry.
Cool, sharp deadly,
I press your photo to my chest,
Your memories are the only memories I have left now.
Every smile cuts me, every touch torments me, every bit of you breaks me until there is nothing left of me untainted by you.
I press YOU tighter to my chest,
Cutting into my heart, draining me of life.
The ache is gone and it is unbearable.
Where are you to end this?
I press a little harder, still waiting.
