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This diary entry is written by ‹diary.of.a.dead.girl.›. ( View all entries )
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Thursday, 6 March 2014
06:21:52 PM (GMT)
You still cross my mind
more often than i'll admit to 
anyone who asks.
I dream of you every
now and again,
whether i'm sleeping or not.
I still hear your laugh
echo through my head,
and don't try to chase it away.
To this day I feel
your lips pressed to my scars
in an attempt to kiss away the past.
While I'm a lonely, drunk, bleeding mess,
all I can think about is you.
How I fucking hate you, 
I want you dead,
I never loved you.
Then I feel the truth sink in and
the tears slip out;
I fucking hate myself,
I want to be dead,
you never loved me.

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