I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house that does not bother me. I may be a few tears now and then take it and just let out. I'm not afraid to cry once in a while. Even to go with you does not bother me. There are days every now and then, as I pretend to be okay before, but that's not what bothers me.
What hurts the most is being so close. And to have so much to say. And you go away to see. And not knowing what could be. And not to To see that I'm trying to love you.
It is difficult to come to terms with the pain that I've lost you no matter where I go, but I do. Much harder it is to get up, get dressed and to live with this suffering. But I know if I could finish it, I would say all the words that are in my heart and I have not pronounced.
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