I have lost that precious smile, Which you fell inLove with.

Did you take it with you, will it ever be returned.

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Day -1

A dog sits and waits for his owner who has died in a crash. He waits and waits and sits and sits. Every-day I pet him and feed him and tell him to go inside his owner is dead but he barks and says.

“He is not dead, he is not dead he has left to get me bread”.

Strange request for a dog they don’t exactly like bread. However his statement makes such magnificent sense to me, that dog knows he is gone because I have told him. The dog is simply waiting because he doesn’t want to be in the house on his own, he still eats and accepts my pets.

I am this metaphorical dog. And over the past days of accounting my pain and life, I have decided to not just sit and except food and pets. But have decided to go inside to lay beside the fire.

Today I asked the dog why he went inside. He tells me something simple.

“He is not dead, he is not dead but I should rest inside in bed.”

Good dog x

*This is the final post in my days’ section of my blog unless some big shake-up causes me to begin again. it has been a pleasure but for now, it will be back to usual un-segmented content, Tommy x.

11, 12 13.

Day 11, 12 and 13

Explosion of hurt, anger, regret, confusion, and love.

A place where you sit.
Surrounded by different voices,
who to trust.

Every option has a downfall.
Heart
Brain
Emotion
Longing
Exit

Some overlap.

He walks up to me presses his lips not against mine but against my ear and says

“It doesn’t matter what you choose, I have your path I own you”

I turn to face him, I kiss his lips.

He leaves my mind.
But remains inside.

Another comes to whisper.

It’s me again just I differ.

Day 10

Day 10.

I just wanna lay in bed and cry all day.

The weather was nice but I was not.
I asked a question, both no.

I keep telling myself I am a snail.
I don’t know why.

I was happy for a bit now i’ve retreated back to shit.

Even this poem has no effort.
Words can be powerful.

I’ve been hurt more by words than a knife.

I put an advert in the paper it simply reads

Looking for company, anyone please.
Time running out, not sure when.
Dead or alive on arrival.

Anyways its time for bed another escape.
It is well needed it’s been a long day.

I truly wish I wasn’t gay.

Day 9

Day 9,

Some kind of test I presume, except i’ve already given my answers long ago.
Timing
has the clock stopped.

Could it resume?

You say you love me, where is that now? Where have you put that love?
It is not shown to me anymore.

Mine is over there hanging malnourished and dishevelled. Holding up a sign that says “kill me”

And I have a knife.