gone.

This is my twisted reality ; cheshire cat grin painted to my face.
Was it worth all the blood you lost?
Was it more than i ever gained, cutting my wrists with
a dull blade.
Where did you do it?
In your room, blinds closed when we slept in the same bed?
In the bathroom where you spent most of your time praying to the porcelain god about pills you swore you "didn't take?"
Your mother found you, was the gun in your mouth or pointed at your heart?
Endless possibilities.
I can't picture your house the same anymore.
Blood & brains coat the walls, my constant nightmare.
As i try to sleep your death haunts the back of my mind where the spiderwebs and dreams of razor blades reside.
A year later, i'm okay now right?
no.