There she lay.
Broken and confused.
But in love.
Her blades as only saviors.
To make her feel free.
To reminded her of him.
The blood as their love.
The scars as memories.
The blade as his honesty.
Just like the way he cut her off.
No emotion behind his eyes.
In his voice.
She'd do the same.
Cut herself off.
It started out as once or twice.
A month.
Then soon became daily.
Eventually every hour.
Then they finally came.
Pills.
She had the good ones.
The ones that make you go numb.
From the thoughts to the actions.
Numb.
There she lay.
Feeling nothing.
Soon came the letters.
The meaning ranging.
From suicide to wanting him back.
She now officially had 24 total.
Letters.
12 Suicide.
12 love.
Her number.
12.
Soon the day came.
She knew.
It was branded in her brain.
12-12-12.
December 12, 2012.
At 12:12 P.M.
Officially a year after he left.
Today was perfect.
She crawled over to her bathroom.
Checking the inventory.
1 Blade.
12 pills.
Then she did it.
Swallowed all 12 pills at once.
Once they kicked in, she sliced.
6 On the left.
6 On the right.
One long deep one on her right wrist.
The side he always held.
Along the vein.
She whispered.
"I love you."
Now she lay.
6ft under
In the black coffin.
All because of him.