Silence
It's going to start Where your chime fades away until it never comes I'll wait all day to hopefully hear it but it never does I wait up at night, waiting for you to call But it to does not come. It is going to happen. I feel it happening It makes me sad that it is happening Playing Porter Robinson's Sad Machine I think of you I grow more sad I'm falling into a spiraling depression I want not to move or do anything I cry alone a lot Staring blankly at the television, the walls, your hoodie, shirt, and socks The silly gifts that you gave me They stare back They're saddening I cannot put them away though I wish too But I just cannot bring myself to do such a thing They are safe Bb would be a lovely thing to have But I guess scattered letters work just the same I am still writing I know I shouldn't be But I am Not just here But letters, blogger, notes All places you cannot see Here is the only thing you can I shouldn't be doing anything like this. You probably hate it. Nearly everyday I do this Meeh I miss your chime And bb Hugs Laugh Singing Voice The list can just go on but it won't I want to go back to the beach I liked it there It's home I want to go home