Silent cries.

I want to hear myself cry for you, but tears won't come. It hurts too much for tears, pain is blocking everything, keeps a tight hold on my soul, squeezing so hard i can barely breathe. All you get is a choked whisper now and again that i can not hope for you to notice. Freedom is what you wanted, freedom is what i was scared of. Freedom is what i have and what you will never even begin to experience.
Each night when i try to fall asleep i have dreams that won't let me rest. Dark things from my past tear at my flesh, and i laugh at how great the pain is. Blood splatters on the walls, reminding me of my thoughts being smashed against the sheets of paper so hard that they die. I try to run away but chains keep me in my place, where i belong. Needless. Even if i could run i would still come back right here in the end. And so all i do is bear it all within me and try to turn it into something beautiful, but failing each and every time.
Fear, rage, love, silent longing for pleasure, memories of your naked form in my arms, remembering my dreams coming real, i hear it all in my mind, as a coarse whisper of a dying man. Breathe the life into me, take me into your life once more, mend my heart, wipe the tears and blood off my face, touch your lips to mine lightly but with that same fiery passion that was always there between us. Each night when i try to fall asleep i look up to the stars and hope to see myself in them. If i could be there among those cold flickering eyes of the night i could also watch over you for all eternity no matter where you are, my love. Although somehow i think you don't want me even as a guardian angel. Not that i could ever join the ranks of angels.
I laugh at the very thought that i could be something so pure.
It was on a night like that, when i was lost in thought as i looked up, that they came for me. Silent figures with expressionless faces and cold, empty eyes. They were fast and efficient, like machines. For all i know they were machines, no human being could ever act as they did. I never knew why they did what they did, and even as they were walking away, the mute question was struggling to form on my lips. I wanted to scream at them to come back and finish what they started, i wanted to get up, but all i could do is lay there on the ground in a pool of my own blood and watch them walk away, as silent as they came, even their feet making no sound on the gravel. Somehow i knew though that they have done what they came to do to me. Not kill me but leave me crippled, half alive, unable to even end it all myself, leave me suffering every night for the rest of my life, however long that may be.
I still have use of my hands. I still can write. All i have left is trying to pour my pain out into words, sentences, lines after lines of meaningless scribblings of a madman. That's what they never touch, my hands. Oh, yes, they come to me every night now, they beat me, break me, torture me every imaginable way. They have been coming for years, and if before they were motionless now i can see anger and impatience building up in them. I no longer ask why they are doing this to me, instead i laugh at their pathetic attempts to make me into something i am not and could never be. They sneer at me as i smile, welcoming the pain. Idiots. If they truly wanted to hurt me they should have cut off my hands.
All the pain they give me becomes my muse, inspiration, my wings, and the more they hurt me the more i can create. So you may as well stop sending them to me if your intention is to make my life more miserable then it was when you have decided that you have not hurt me enough by leaving me behind without so much as one last glance. You can't hurt me more then i hurt already. I know the worst pain of all as is. You have given it to me as a present, in a heart shaped box tied with black ribbon.
Nothing can be a worse torture then the fact that i can not stop loving you no matter what. You can try and break me, you may laugh at me, hate me, you may even stop caring altogether and simply forget me. But i will never stop loving you, even if it kills me. And i hate myself for it, as i am powerless against this love, i can not end it no matter what i do and how hard i try.
It just won't go away.
Do i know for sure they you were the one who sent them? No. And i still know not why they do what they do. I have stopped caring and just accepted it as a part of my life after you have gone. I know who they are, though. Took me some time to figure out, but i did.
Memories...