I Die A Little More Every Day

Dedicated to
You

I die a little more every day.

Sorrow.

Pain.

Hatred.

Love.

You.

I try to forgive you, forget you, erase you from my soul forever.

Nothing works. I still am attached to you. I see your face in other people, hoping they are you. I compare moments I witness with those we shared, wishing I’d done my part differently.

I die a little more every day.

Grief.

Agony.

Loathing.

Love.

You.

I know you don’t love me, not the way I feel for you.

It’s more than a mushy feeling. It’s like being stabbed with a million knives. Shot through the chest by a million bullets. Finger’s sliced by a million pieces of paper.

I die a little more every day.

Affliction.

Torment.

Detest.

Love.

You.

I don’t even know you anymore.

You aren’t the wonderful person I knew then. You’ve changed. It’s as if I don’t matter, as if I’m the puddle you drive through in your old, sad excuse for a car, being splashed into oblivion. Out of sight. Out of mind.

I die a little more every day.

Misery.

Hell.

Abhor.

Love.

You.

I can’t hold on.

Then falling, slipping, losing grip on things. It’s sending me into darkness. You treated me like I was amazing, wonderful, and perfect in every way. I now find that you lied. Everything was a lie.

I die a little more every day.

Despair.

Abyss.

Disgust.

Love.

You.

I won’t survive.

Every ounce of suffering you have caused me is returning. Hurdling at me like a rock shot at a pigeon. Slowly, painfully killing me. This is what you have done to my innocent soul.

I died today.

Hopelessness.

Hole.

Abomination.

Love.

You.

I couldn’t make it.

Thank you.