The pain works as a permanent reminder that you’re gone and that you’re not coming back. It whispers softly in my ear that you’re happy.
I don’t even dare to say your name. I cannot bring myself to do it. Not here, not out loud because I’m afraid all of this will become real. As if you’re an alternative reality only existing in a long gone memory, and the only thing keeping you inside this void is the fact that no one knows your name.
But I do. So I prefer to hold it all inside my chest and feel you burning and laughing and echoing as you dance with my demons and shake hands with my insecurities because it’s better than not feeling you at all.
There are days however, when I would prefer to end it all. There are days when I would prefer to drain all of the blood I gave to fill all of your cracks and dried out veins because now I feel numb. Trapped inside this never ending nightmare that is your absence.