Poems of a Broken Man

Broken with glue

I still think about her all the time. Dream of her, remember her. I don't know why.

I thought people were supposed to be over it by now. I realized recently it was exactly a year since we'd broken up. It didn't seem real, especially when I'm still thinking things like;
Do you still have trouble sleeping?
AND
Does he sing to you, read to you, lull you to sleep like I used too?

I wonder if we met now and had never met before, if you'd like me more or less than you did when we first met? What doesn't help is I can't remember why you liked me in the first place, so I can't remember if I still have that in me for me to like myself either.

I've been better lately, but lonely. To stop that, I've been packing in my schedule. I'm trying to stop myself killing myself but by proxy I'm slowly killing myself. It's killing me...

Part of me is trying to ask for help, but doesn't remember what it needs help with, and the other part is fine. Completely fine, not a care in the world. Until I think of her. Or him. And I hate that part of me again that want's to pretend it's fine. I'm trying to get to a place where that part doesn't exist at all, because you can't hate someone you don't know anymore.