(no subject)
I sent you the last of us in a plain white envelope, your name scrawled across it with no return address. It's sad that I could fit our whole relationship in something so small, so one-dimensional.
I sealed it with my tongue, my last kiss to you. You will never taste me again, nor I you.
I don't taste anything anymore. My world has become a bland, flat surface. Perpetually grey. You sucked the color out of my eyes, took my green into your own, along with my last hope of feeling.
I tried to drink you away. Smoke you away. Bleed you away. I tried everything and only killed myself, not your memory.
I could never forget you, and that hurts even more than the fact that you're gone.