Every time I see a picture of you I go mad. I’m sitting hear listening to Pachabel and carving your name into my skin. You’re gone, but I’m waiting for you. You left a scar on my soul, I left scars on my flesh. It’s the only way that you’ll see how much it pains me that you’re gone. Please, Abby, save me. Please.
1 comment
1 comment
I’ve read some of your other posts, and your writing is beautiful. Your mind seems to work in a very interesting way. I’m not sure if you know this, but it’s just my observation.
I’m here if you need a stranger to vent to.
It’s okay to feel pain.