b,

it's almost christmas.

you loved this time of year, didn't you? all the dancing lights and laughter and flushed cheeks – you always said it reminded you of a time before it all went to shit. 

i'm trying to stay strong, to remember you in the way that you would've wanted, but today i saw all these people, all these happy people, so carefree and ignorant and weightless and goddamn complete

and i thought of you.

(again. that's nothing new though, is it)

and i wanted to

rip

my

heart 

out

because i can feel it stuttering in the silence between words and my mind threatens to burst out my skull and sometimes when i'm alone

sometimes when i hold my breath and count to ten

i hear your voice like an echo and its tastes like the best kind of poison.

but that's the thing about poison:

it always kills you, in the end. 

- t