Sincerely, Jennifer x

The rain outside is sympathetic,

pressing against the window,

in an attempt to make me feel less alone,

but she just shines a light,

on the empty side of the bed,

unread messages,

tear stained pages of my diary.

The rain tries her best,

and for a moment,

we are the same,

I press my fingers to the glass,

but I cannot feel anymore,

and there is no warmth to be found,

from temporary empathy.

I let you know that I’m awake,

just in case I’d like some further disappointment,

mid morning,

crying into burnt toast,

that it has been five days,

and I am slowly unravelling,

though I robotically request the same,

every day,

just a little acknowledgement,

that you are not dead,

and that you still love me,

just as a little treat.

You told me about the ones before me,

in the asylum of your affections.

Now they surround me at night,

as I collapse and awaken,

again and again,

to torture.

Gaslit girl gang.

I can’t tell if they haunt me,

for revenge or pity,

or just to tell me,

that nobody makes it out alive.

I try to remember,

that I was alive before you,

and that the rain

was not a sister,

but just a sound,

a sequence of events I could ignore,

but when I hear her call,

and not yours,

I don’t know if I’ll ever be alive again.