Love Is the Slowest Form of Suicide

As I lay in a pool of my own... Thought. Contemplating everything you are not. Crippled. To the point where you cant even be civil. Still I find myself unable to go on without you Eventhough I cant stand to be around you. I gave you everything I had. And anything I didn't. But if I could slow time for just one minute. Maybe I could see what I lack in clarity. But really, such as, an impossibility. And ongoing proof of my niaveity. One look at you and I fall sick. With you using murderous jealousy as your new little trick. I cant seem to end this. My fault, perhaps for being so spineless. Gasping for air and still suffocating. Infatuation leading to a painful bleeding. Not of body and not of mind. Just as a feeling with no healing time. Compensation is my retaliation. To this suicide Ive plunged into without hesitation. So slowly I die. With a constant wondering why... I put myself through the slowest form of suicide.