The declination of your life. Last breath. Streaming blood. Bullet wound(s). What I sought was your heart. It burst with a bullet. So was that your form of self indulgence ? Was that your chocolate ? My candy coated nightmare ? Or was it because of me ? Was your disgusting display an attempt to break my strings ? To pull me rip-chord from my desires by pulling your effervescent life ? My emotions and your awareness was too much ? You could just stop loving me, but because I couldn't find the strength, you had to make another move- ending your life ? Because a more subtle "Get the fuck out of my life" was harder than "I'm getting the fuck out of life in general" ? Or did you think that this was better for me ? Knowing there is no was you could ever love me again because you were dead, rather than knowing you're choosing to never love me the way you did ? Well, I'm still writing about you, so what does that prove ? You're physical being doesn't live on, but the memories of your arms around me are eternal.