(no subject)
This day means nothing now.
The years wash away right before my eyes.
Years of everything that made my life good, gone in what seems like a day.
My heart was in your hands... now where is it?
I can hardly feel it beating anymore.. it's coming apart.. I'm losing touch.
I lost you. It happened.
It hurts, but it's real.
I can't see you anymore.. can't feel you.
In a dark room, arms outstretched, blindly, frantically searching for you...
you're not looking for me.
I can't be scared anymore...there's no point.
People fear for the things they couldn't bear to lose, and my valuable possesion is already gone.
This day means nothing now.
A meaningless number on a calendar page.
It doesn't stand for love, it's just a Tuesday like any other Tuesday.
seventeen days into a week in March
I can accept that.
Crumpled up, thrown away.
In the trash is where you left me, along with my broken heart, the life I once knew, and the seventeenth of january.
Nothing good ever happens to trash; everyone knows that.
It sits and sits... burried... decomposing.
Unless you learn to recycle.
It doesn't have to be like this.
I refuse to decompose anymore.
Goodbye old Bailey.
See you on the other side.