I felt the tears begin to well, but my soul is not a bottomless pit. All the sorrow has to pool somewhere, and it stays deep inside, far beneath my souring bones.
So I threw my heart away, the thing that causes me such pain, before the tears could fall. But it was not enough, nothing is ever enough, no matter how much I tear out or replace.
I fear you didn’t reside in just my heart. You are in every piece of me, from the strands on my head to the tips of my toes. They all hold a memory, mapped and held by your fingertips.
There is no escape from this, not even in death. For I breathed that decay into my lungs at the end, and I taste it even now. You are here within me and everywhere without.
What am I to do?
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