Friday, January 22
Old. Almost 2 years since she died..
Needles standing up on edge suddenly stomped on every time you speak her name. Her face now resembles death and agonizing pain. Her smile no longer fills your heart with joy. Her birthday is something we all dread to bare; wont be celebrating it this year. Fear drizzles down your neck when ever they mention the place of lost souls. Each and every one of them constantly being stepped on. Insects have their feasts upon the things that were once your only meaning. No more photographs, only teared memories, too painful to seek. Her smile is held deep within you, although you could never shine it to the world. For this smile has be contaminated with a drenching smell. The smell of death. We shall not speak her name, for nobody can understand the gut wrenching pain you feel every time that one syllable drops from their lips, so lightly and carelessly it kills. There is no bigger misfortune than losing a loved one, no bigger than the haunted memory that glides next to you always. You can't imagine the images that seal themselves inside of me. Maggots feasting into my mind. I'll never get over this