Intrusive thoughts

Ebbing happiness
and bloody sheets.
Remembering the pain
brings tears to my eyes.

I try to forget,
but the thoughts are intrusive,
and I always remeber.

Bottle in one hand,
razor in the other,
all the while, the phone lies on my bed.

Should I call for help?
Or should I just let it be the end?

Whispered words of apology,
before the final goodbye,
but honestly, he didn't mean it,
and his satanic smile lives on.

Forgotten aspects of that night,
Goddamnit why can't I remember?
Letting go Of all I stood for,
I know that there's nothing left.

So if I dream,
I dream of better times,
wishing there were a pistol under my pillow
so I could feel safe again.