The ghost of you.

Shackles that tie me to a grave.

A lesson learned, a lecture of love.

The tale of the silent master and the seeker of love.

When had my place become lower than an ant?

I may own this ant colony, complete with a pretty throne and a golden crown.

Yet what I rule is bread crumbs that feeds me a throbbing pain.

My heart beats in sync with what you speak, my lifeline.

Your name engraved into every inch of my flesh; loving you has defined my existence.

My religion I pray to daily.

Please say you love me.

Please don't say those words.

I can't handle goodbye.

Don't flatline me with your muteness.

I've only wanted you, I spoke for yearning.

Or had it felt like yelling?

Did my yearning for better suffocate you?

Did I burrow the hole and set the seed of our demise?

Did I make drowning seem like the only escape?

In the wake of your absence, past promises whisper of your death.

A nightmare I wish weren't true.

Time can't heal this like you said.

It only hurts, time only hurts.

A chasm wide within my soul, my world unfurls in monochrome.

Why am I left grieving at your tomb?

I gave it my all, my very soul to you.

Yet, it's cold and gloom.

I'm adrift without what means most to me.

I still don't understand.

I'm consumed by bitterness and anger yet how could I be?

I know I'm insecure and paranoid, a fundamental part of me.

Is that why I've become a chore?

Did recurrence feel like an unyielding law of order?

Dreams I had of us, I craved.

Our ink had run out, but I persisted.

I've written an illusion, a wanted story of our eternal island.

My masterpiece, stained with my vital fluid.

Now, in every reflection, I see only you.

I'm still suffering with my emotions bleeding out.

But this wound remains as my only comfort of you.

So I'll let it bleed till it drains and kills.

But I hate it too.

I don't want to cry for you.

Even so, time will flow and seasons will shift.

You'll still be a part of me.

Shackles that tie me to a grave.

- rice.