I hope you choke on every damn cigerette you smoke. I hope the
deathly clouds fill up your lungs and make you splutter and gasp
for air, like a burning toxic gas of hate and you can't
understand why such an ancient habit of yours causes you so much
pain, only to have the realisation that it is because it burned her
throat and you're replacing her presence with your own actions,
your body mimicing hers to surivive in her absence. I hope you as
you sit outside that party wasted, draining every last drop of her
favourite drink, your throat is flooded with the taste of her
drunken lips and you feel your enitre being crack in half and you
stare into a puddle and see her, wide eyed and staring back, and as
you look into the increasingly emptying bottle you realise why you
bought her favourite drink even though she is gone. I hope you when
you see her new love, try to hate him with the same passion you
loved her, but you cannot, try as you might, feel ill towards the
new reason behind her sunray smile. And I hope, god I hope,
evrything you do confuses you for a moment, every time you listen
to her music or watch her favourite film you question why
understand why you torture yourself, only to the again realise that
in a hopeless effort to survive without her, you tried to become
the closest anyone could ever be to her. The one person who's
world will from the moment they were born to the minute of their
death center around her. You tried to become her.