I'm far past gone.

My tears asphyxiate me to the point where I can no longer feel my oscillating lungs,
My tears catch my breath to the point where I can no longer utter the remnants your name,
My tears blind me to the point where I can no longer see the malicious web I've woven,
My tears express the overwhelming pain I feel in my heart as it dissolutes for you,
My tears are the symbol of what a mistake I am.
My tears fall and crash dejectedly around me, leaving only the rubble to mark your departure.
You've left and all that remains is a glacial wind that chills the skeletons off trees.

Haerts on fire.

Stop feeling guilty about something that should make us happy. 

What’s done is done.

Most of us are bitter over someone.

We try to distract ourselves from ever missing them with the black splintered shards of subtances.

I'm forever missing them, Hamlet, Zeus, Antony.

But the past cannot be erased or changed, Romeo; so let's move forward with this new relationship.

The "Replacement"

Your tears fall so often they've formed an ocean as vast as the be-stilled horizon of the Arctic.
Forming an oasis so unreal, they've become the soothing liniment for your immortal pain.
To feel pain compensates little for feeling nothing at all.
Your heavy indifference on emotions has you cynical of this love.
The opposite of love is not indifference rather sadness, that the one to whom your affection is given loves not you but the one who preceded you.
You are the replacement.
The object of convalescing for him.

The frayed ends of my sanity.

The path my love follows fills a desolate heart with unrelenting guilt and moral decay, yet not regret.
Scenes replay in my mind like a marionette's lugubrious spectacle. I'm wholly consumed by the enslaving out pour of emotion that my lungs gasp for a zephyr of your scent.
My conscience is be-gnawed by shame and malfeasance, afflicted with such griefs that cause physical agony.

Heartrendingly, I deliberate the ingestion of arsenic to burn my veins clean and rid this impurity. Oh Ophelia. I've purloined Romeo from his beloved Juliet... and yet I look back on the day as if it was an unmistakably libidinous quandary....

How could he want me, entangled with mental and physical punctures, when such a queen is sitting gracefully on her sumptuous and ethereal throne? I tear at the merciless and perpetual echoes that consume my evanescent soul... my flaws mark your absence and are left for him to heal with the affection you never provided.

A hopeless whisper.

Showing no mercy, my mercurial mind called out hardheartedly for your lingering presence.
In the dark, my hopeless wish cannot be granted without your resonating light.
And so, as the preceding nights, I lay in the cold, rising damp stroking the melanoid stone enclosing your once radiant vigour.