Letters to My Love (an excerpt)

May 30th, 2013

Words can't describe the guilt.  Incidentally, you've sucked every word from me; I have none.

It's your one-year anniversary and all I've done is gotten drunk.  I haven't spoken of you, haven't sang your greatness, haven't dedicated a single word to you, all I've done is bless your memory with whiskey.  I say that I'll write about you, for you, that I'll spit it out and get it down on paper or a bright screen, vomit up these feelings into somewhat pretty words but it never happens.  When I'm sober the pain from remembering you is too much, and when I'm drunk I lose all ambition and go until I pass out.  So I let it eat at me, munch away at my heart, my lungs, my brain, my tongue, the tips of my fingers and the roots of my hair.  I don't care if your memory destroys me.  You consume me like slow burning chemical fire, all that's left of me will be ash, yet I can't bring myself to cut off your oxygen, your fuel, I can't simply let you go.  I can't just let you die again.