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06/21
The ground is wet, the mud acts like quicksand. I can feel my body sinking further by the second. I can't hear anyone above, no one has any tears to shed. You're not there.
Why would you be? I've done nothing for you. I only dragged you quicker than the mud.
Unlovable.
I'm 7 feet under now, 1 extra for luck.
If you want me now I'm gone, write me a note. It doesn't matter what it says, I've memorised every aspect of you.
Don't call, don't text (you never did).
Contact me via mole.
I'll rise again and you can knock me back down.
I keep getting mad that you don't answer my questions, but then I remember I wrote them for you, wanted you to feel the weight of the ink. I never sent them off, never got a stamp and begged for answers.
Will I burn out? Answer me.
Will we fall back in love? You don't have to answer that.
I know.
-M
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