“I look at poetry and I remember you. I look at those brokenhearted people and I feel terrible about how it feels to be one of them. But what is killing me is not the first nor the second thing I mentioned, it is the guilt that follows, realizing that I was the one that ruined us. And instead of leaving, you put up with me for months because I begged you for it.
At the end, I know you deserve nothing more than me letting you go. Cause I am as toxic as the smoke that gets into your lungs and inhaling me will leave you out of breath.
I killed you, I killed us,
I killed me.”
C.P. – it’s been eight months and I still remember every second of it