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Counting Time

Time–you count it because of fear or love. I count 2.5 years of mourning–the first 3 months of missing him were hell–so are the last 3. 

There are not enough words to describe the callousness of his nature and not enough to describe the emptiness either it caused. The necessary descriptives elude me, I think. I’ll try anyway…

Scooped out–like someone hollowed the pit of my stomach. 

Terrified–in shock and isolation.

Confused, betrayed, lost, abandoned, stupid, foolish, unhappy.


Yet, I miss my friend/not friend. Love/not love. 

Liar. User. Coward…and the countdown continues.

Just so you know: I’m irreplacable. 

You keep lying and I’ll keep counting. 

1…until his heart breaks…2 until his heart breaks…3 until his heart breaks…4 until mine heals…5 until mine heals…6…7…


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