Pain

You thought that your presence is something precious to someone but nope, your presence is not. Your existence is not acknowledged and appreciated. You feel the wound is cutting open, and you let it be. And you think, for how long should you keep walking in a pair of shoes that don't suit you? You kissed the pain away, with your own lips. But the pain still lingers and you ignore it. 

Alone is something that she's not. You were there. She spoke. You listened. She knew. And she went away. You thought at least, that piece of memory would revive her at last. She couldn't breathe still. So someone else caught her from falling. And with that, you are of no one to be remembered of.

You rip your heart and form a hole inside. You think you're no one that can give something. Not serenity, not even pain. You're dead inside. 

If only that's true. Because the agony is still there.