223. For Her To Be Happy

I wanted her to be happy,

but she didn’t love me.

She never actually cared,

or she wouldn’t have left me.

And as I take countless pills,

and have written my last will,

I must say that I still… love her, 

the flower upon my windowsill.

But I don’t want to be here,

I no longer want to live in fear

of fucking things up again,

so I will just make this the end.

Of course, she’ll be fine,

while I sit here losing my mind.

She hadn’t felt anything at all,

while I wait for her to call

and tell me everything’s alright.

But she won’t, not this time,

because I’ve made too many mistakes,

and now my life is at stake.

I suppose we weren’t meant to be,

for her to be genuinely happy.

And so I am writing all of this,

as one last goodbye kiss.

And I hope she reads this piece,

so that I may rest in peace.