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Sick With the Loss of You
The panic was settling in oh so comfortably. My heart was skipping around somewhere in my stomach and my lungs decided to close for the day. MY eyes pretended they were rivers and flooded the valleys of my face. The shock shattered my bones and my legs collapsed, useless. My brain didn't understand what my ears were picking up on. Surely it wasn't true. Life was the best look on you. You wouldn't lose this, we were so close. Just yesterday we could see the golden doors. We had just talked of a future outside those four walls. And nowhere in that future did we say we would be here like this. You in the coffin and me in the black. You don't belong under the dirt. You're supposed to be under the sun and all the other stars, laughing at the idea of disappearing. Laughing with me. So why aren't you laughing, damn it? Why are they taking you away? How could you go? How could you leave me? Please don't go. I must be dreaming, but the blood on my wrists says otherwise. The panic still sits inside, eating away at me like acid. A part of me holds on to you, knowing I'll find you in my sleep. But how can I sleep, knowing you won't be here when I wake up?
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