With each day passed i lose hope just a little bit more. a little bit more. Each day i take one stp closer to "them." To be just "them." I'll always be your memory. I'll always be the one. But day by da,y moment by moment i give up a little more. I break a little more.

Past midnight the ship sinks and you feel it. something there unnamed but felt anyways. Late nights and made dinners and far off hopeless hopes. That's all i am now, isn't it.

You don't read anymore. you don't write anymore. I know deep down you care cause that's the kind we are, the tattoo scar cares, you and i. Each time we love we engrave it on the walls and wait for them to crumble. They never do. they just grow full and more full. crowded and more crowded. Till you can barely make out each signature, each "i was here" with date. But even as they fade we trace our fingers there, places we've traced so many times it's just indented now. And we remember.

Bad days we remember all but the bad. Good days it's only the good. No matter what day it is there is still a void.

I wish i had some great life story to tell you, some moral to any of this. But there's none.

Only my suffering in my world. and your suffering in your world.

You'd think that we would commit some things to memory forever. to heart forever. but the feelings drift away, sift away until your grasping sand with open fingers.

Each letter i write to you, each letter i've written to you. the words, sounds and souls of them all. No matter how many i give it won't change the facts. Won't change the trembles, the mates, and all the sad memories.

I always believed in love but never soul mates. only marriage and work and loyalty. But mostly just love. forever love. did i ever not dissapoint you?

Is it so hard to ask for a little affirmation? The tears are few and far between but they come. For you only. like waiting waves. like lips long forgotten. I won't be the first driven with grief to insanity. I won't be the first to never forget you. We'll start a club and brand our thighs and chain ourselves in gold.

We'll throw up once a week to remind us of this sort of pain and cut our wrists to honor your memory. And as we frighten you more and more away we'll grow more and more devoted. Because giving up is not for our kind.

Is this quitting? is this giving up? hell, is this giving up without even trying?