tormented by myself there is no escape.
rage so strong
hurt so deep
and I die a little more every day I think of you,
and,...
I think of you Every day,
you haunt my dreams
you monopolize my thoughts
triggers of rage and disgust and regret and hurt at even the slightest scent reminiscent of you.
and my life is torment with no escape.
if only
if only
if only i could torture you the way the thought of you,
is,
to me,
pure anguish.
but I must live with the fact that there is no death slow enough that would fill the abyss you left inside me.
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ReplyDeleteWhen we want to destroy the other, we really want to destroy the imprint the other left inside of us. But of course the irony is that when we've destroyed the real thing, the imprint is the only thing that remains, and all we've done is doomed ourselves to grief without any chance of fulfillment.
ReplyDelete