two options

at this point
short of a time machine
or full frontal lobotomy
this is the new
state of normal

i have been
soldering components
but leaving out resistors
because i have given up
completely

the room smells of disinfectant
with an underlying scent
of sadness
the ice pick sits in isopropyl
as i steel my will

there are no other options
when you have
given yourself to another
yet they simply
walked away

i will either see you
eighteen months ago
or through a haze
of fuzzed out memories
that may not be real

either way
this emotional sarcophagus
is more than i can bear
because no matter how i try
i cannot stop missing her

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