Journal #3

I'm falling apart. Oh, Former, I want to grab your face, I want to kiss you. I want to breathe out a softly murmered 3 word letter to you. I want to look in emeralds, I want to hear it back. I don't. I can't hear it back, because what then can I do? "Where is this love?" I can't bring it with me, what good is it far from me? But why do I speculate these foolish things? I know they don't exist. I can't muster it. I'm going to break apart at your feet. I've never needed tears to come more than I do now. Jesus, baby, I'm so fucking sorry for everything we did to each other. I don't know.