It is strange how I find myself thinking of you at the oddest of times. Whether it be a flower or gunfire, you're there in my heart. I think of the laughs we've shared, the sweet embraces, the stolen kisses. Would you like that flower? I bet you would be adorable thinking about how that thing goes together. What kind of comments would you have about the people we're watching?

    Inevitably it all turns to the other questions. Was I just some fling? Do you even think of me? Do you even care anymore? Feels like you don't, and that hurts me more than a bullet ever will.

    As sweet as life was before, it is as painful now. Inside me there are cold, quiet things huddled in the dark that want to scream but can only whisper.