Dead man.

It has never been so empty here.
In the barren land of my heart. It's like nothing would ever live there. You left me thinking everything I was was useless.
But I'm in love with you dead. In love with the picture of the never-coming back you. You were made up, always. Always imagined, virtual. Always different in my head. Better. Mine.
But it's so beautiful- the thought of you never existing. And yet it hurts- not the fact that you are gone. But the fact that it's never been so empty. So quiet. I'm alone. Dead.
Dead to every man that will ever look at me. I don't want them, I dont want to be alone. And I don't want compromises. And in the end, I dont know what I want. I want nothing in particular, nothing we could name. Nothing that involves trusting people. Nothing.
Do you know, that sometimes I wake up at night, just to say how much I hate you? And I do hate you. I hate you for coming back to me in my head every night. The more I want to forget, the more often you come back. And I dont want you to come back. Never again.
Dead men dont come back. Never ever. And that's what keeps making me happy- the fact that youre dead. Dead to me.

I wish you all the worst, honey. All the worst.
Love- the one who kills you every night.
xoxo