The Saddest Truth of All

I miss you.

I miss your breath against my neck, the smell of your hair. I miss your finger's touch against my back as I embrace you in my arms. I miss your kiss, I miss your care - I miss your love.


I hate hope.

Hope is an ugly thing, it screws us over. It pretends to be something beautiful, but hope is just a twisting delusional fantasy, dancing in the winds of shame, and hope is something I want to let go of.

I don't know how.


I need air.

Whenever I see you I hyperventilate, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to speak. It hurts to look. You're like a sun in my world; a star on earth, and the mere sight of you is enough to blind me. I cannot go on like this. I have to let go.

I want to let go.


...but I don't want to admit that you're gone.




If I admit that you're gone... then I admit you were there.

And that is the saddest truth of all.