I Mourn myself. . .

There's a darkness that's swallowing me, I sit and I cry and I'm lost and feel unloved and no ones to blame but myself. I allowed myself to die, and I tried to ignore it for so long, sometimes it catches up that black mood, but it goes, fades and I move on. Heart breaking sobs escape me, my body shudders and my precious tears run capriciously down my cheek my throat between my breasts. I've done my best to deal with life, love, living and I ended up dead, so I sit here and cry cause I killed her, I killed my innocence...

I miss that light in me, that blindness to all things dark, I miss the simplicity I felt, that unwavering sense of black and white. What have I done, she's gone and I can't bring her back, I want her back and I don't think I can, I've seen too much. So I sit in a corner and mourn myself, with no one knowing, wishing I had what I always wanted, strength, not simply my own but another's, a person willing to take my pain because I was worth it, willing to let me go weak even a little cause that strength is enough for both of us. I crave that intimacy, desperately, of allowing someone to see me cry to see me weak, to hold me while I see myself dead and cry...

But I'm still alone, so I go and wash my face, put my shield back in place before I face the world again, and wonder if the world will hate me when they know that I replaced her...