I think that I was officially dead, and I am climbing up again.
I am truly dead, and exhausted.
I miss you often.
I miss you as I soften my heart and write poetry that has origins in what is dark.
I miss and need a spark.
But because I value philosophy, and take heed to Aurelius and Nietzche…
I am trying my best to not self sabotage and fall into despair or depression.
My emotions feel densest.
And my heart feels like it is ending.
I am hurting and feelings feel stone.
I don’t feel cold.
I feel utter blank and soul-less.
Soul less because I feel weak.
I can barely write with clean precision.
I am trying to lay it out here.
To even recover.
But something is lacking, the love that you provided.
I need it.
I am fiendish.
I am shameful.
I feel the negative things, people try to hide and cover.
I feel it, and it is dark.
It is difficult and muddy.
It is blank.
And You color me, with so much that so much I am trying to keep my word and give us 30 days.
These are letters to you.
I love you.
I miss you.
I need you.
I want you.
All of the above.