My god, the emptiness.
It’s unbearable at times.
Why do I torture myself by reading the words you wrote to me? I really need to stop but I can’t. You’re so beautiful and alive. In every way. I can’t believe you’re gone. I won’t stop believing you’ll find your way back but the agony of now is too much.
It sits heavy on my chest, crushing me under its weight, until I can’t breathe.
The despair!
A vacuous pit where light can’t penetrate.
I just let the emails pile up now. There’s like 98 of them, I think. I was cleaning them out as soon as they popped up but now I just let them hang out in some kind of hoarders paradise in my inbox. It used to be so neat and orderly with only the two of us in there.
I haven’t been sleeping
My complexion is a dry riverbed
There are whole ravines under my eyes
I’ve emptied out all the avenues of my heart;
cleared away all the clutter
except for yours.
I’ve hung your things upon the walls.
You’re the only one who lives there now.
In Between Days 