smile


Allowing my bleeding heart’s contents to drip onto you I discover that the pain you feel is not in anyway related to losing me but for those who came before, and the loss of your own crumbling innocence. When we’re safe in bed on a Sunday morning things may seem well but the cold and harsh reality of a Monday morning will bring with it the fresh hell of forced interaction and other forms of despair. In the mean time I long for your smile, your touch and the warmth of your kiss. I hope to tell you about the things that I miss. In the night, so near, you sit so silent and still, working, reading, relaxing and here in this darkened tomb I try to prevent myself from exhuming the corpse of our love.

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