HitRecord... it's a production company that takes writing submissions and one of the projects they are taking submissions for is a book for the brokenhearted... This is what I sent, I'm sure I will post more. I am queen of the brokenhearted. Hopefully I might be able to get paid for it..
All that is left is this empty space. The void of what was and what could of been, if I would of been, a little less me. Somewhere down this divided road I've seemed to make a wrong turn into a parallel universe where two halves do not make a whole. They make two halves. It's the deafening silence killing me now. It's death to a dreamer. I had an imagination that lasted us. I visualized so many times in every single life saying our I do's. How maybe the heavens created such a perfect love that every time we died together, we decided to reincarnate just because we knew our love was so strong we could find each other. That we were a model of love for all of creation and the gods smiled down. You were my eternity. My past, present, my future. I marveled in our magic. Now I have a hollow grave. A lack luster. A null journey. I always thought we were climbing together, we could conquer anything. Now with each step up this steep mountain, I realize I am alone and there is less air. I'm suffocating. My will to keep climbing contemplates swallowing an entire bottle of anything to shut the emptiness out. You haunt me. A ghost of a person I wish with my entire being I never knew. Where did our smiles go? When did we stop laughing? Why even though it's been so long since I heard it, is that the only thing my brain can hear and see. The way your cheeks took up your entire face when you were happy. The way you danced when you cooked. Pictures of our life once was. I wonder if you're happy now. I wonder when I stopped being the one who did that for you. The aftermath of our destruction is a synapse that my cells and atoms can't take. I'm afraid to leave this house. This bed. The place we once reveled in so many nights. Sharing our deepest thoughts, and dreams. Secrets only known by us and the sheets that have been washed clean now. I question everything, if I'm even human enough to look at the outside world. I have nothing left. Not even enough of myself for myself. Finding the will to do simple things like bathing seems to cost too much, energy I don't have and can't afford. Where did we go? Why have the heavens cursed me? I contemplate every word we ever spoke, every tone they were said in. Was it ocular and something I missed? Was I so busy trying to make things work that couldn't see the misery in front of me? I'm not afraid of death now. The repercussions of this entire equation have left me with one knowing. That even death has to be easier than losing you. Losing me. I didn't even know I gave so much of myself I had nothing left until the shallowness of my skin started to mummify here. With every fiber of my being I loved you and I'm worn. Incapable. I hate the expression it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. To know every possibility, to meet the very piece of my soul I always knew was missing, and have it torn away. This is poisoned. Grim is my whole name. The only solace I have now is that life is not guaranteed. So I pray at any moment the universe decides to finish taking the rest of the oxygen from my lungs. The same way it took the rest of my heart when it took you. How did I ever live before and what did I do? I'm so full of disdain I don't bare the thought of moving, or answering the phone. Afraid every time it rings because I know it's not your voice on the other side. You are an audible orgasm I crave but will never know again. You were perfect. Love has forsaken me. Despair my only friend, never leaving my side. I want nothing. What on earth is there left to nourish? My soul is gone. My cup empty, shattered. Broken with not enough glue in the world to put me back to together. The only reason I know I am alive anymore is the somber wet feeling of tears on my face. The now funereal feeling of life has made my bones dry. I am earnestly solemn.
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