I sit on the toilet, staring at your lifeless body. The body which holds no heart.
I say this because, well, if you had a heart, you would have at least talked to me about what you did to me. Instead of leave me a fucking note.
I stare at your hands. I think about how many times I have kissed those fingers, rubbed the back of your palm, and let them roam my body.
I stare at your flaming hair. I think about how when I first met you, that's what stuck out the most. Those and your eyes.
I stare at your closed eyelids. This probably hurts me the most. Because I know that underneath them, there are two beautiful green eyes that held so much love, pain, and life.
The life that you will no longer be able to live.
The life that has not only changed who I am but changed who I will become.
The life that took away my life.
I stare at the two slits in your wrists. The two slits which you made yourself.
The slits that were pouring out blood when I found you, and have yet to stop.
I stare at your breasts. I think about how many time I have kissed them.
I stare at your nose. I think about how you loved to rub noses with me.
I stare at your eyebrows. I think about how they're perfectly shaped, even though you have never plucked them.
I stare at your mouth. I think about how it just doesn't look right without a smile on.
I stare at your cheeks. I think about how pale they are. How they lack that rosy color.
I stare at your nails. I think about how you never liked them to be the same color.
I stare at your toes. I think about how you used to wiggle them in delight when I would tickle you.
I stare at your track marks. I think about how many times you have had me shoot up with you in the past few days.
I stare at the blood. I think about how the bathtub floor will be forever pink.
I stare at the razor. I think about how shiny it is. And how it must have felt to slice your flesh with it.
I stare at the fucking note you left me on the mirror. I think about how you are so fucking selfish.
I get down and bring your pale, lifeless body into my arms.
I stare at myself in the mirror. I think about how I'm weeping. And you hated it when I cried.
I stare at the note again as I hold you. I think about how you haven't just killed yourself.
You've killed me.
I stare at your body again.
I think about the amazing girl that used to be the owner of that body who has ruined my life.
And how she's dead now.
And I'm fucking glad.