My heart is a stone.
I fear that all the good and pure has been strangled from it in your absence.
Does that frighten you?
When there was such little chaste virtue to work with at the start?
Are you afraid that there's nothing left?
That I'm naught but a husk of hate and pain?
Because I'm afraid.
Nights drag on, and I'm left with the screaming torment of the phantoms in my own mind.
Did I do this right, did I remember to, did I forget to, did I leave the stove on,
What did I ruin? Will I ever get it right? Is there still a chance...
Did you ever...
Does it matter?
Do I still care?
Obviously, or I wouldn't be bleeding on the floor so rudely.
Snap crackle pop.
Never start your day with the sounds of your broken mind echoing breakfast cereal.
Broken mind?
Broken heart.
And the worst part is-
I do it to myself.
For no reason but to feel.
I love you.
You know that.
Just love me back, and I'll be fine.
Promise.