Shoot me or slit my wrist.
You’ve already taken my heart, my soul, my mind. I’m worthless.
These last few seconds aren’t wanted anyway.
This is what you’ve made me.
I’m going to die tonight. In an unfinished basement where you hide your stash, so the kids don’t find it. You’re such a good dad.
Comfort comes from the concrete that envelopes my body from all sides. I collide with it and, because I know what’s to come, feel life in the pain. What’s more fucked up? That it feels good or that I know I’m only momentarily alive anyway?
Consciousness is fleeting. Luckily, I’m delusional. I thought you loved me.
Your warm hands, that used to cup my jaw as you kissed my forehead, are now suffocating my lungs. Let go, baby. Pick me up and tell me you didn’t mean it . Cup my face again. Kiss me. Make those promises. I’ll believe you.
I don’t remember what life is like without you. And, I don’t think it’s worth it if I have nothing left. You’ve become the only reason that I want to live; your grip gets stronger and stronger around my neck...
At least you’re touching me.