The Death of Me

I miss a lot. 

I miss the little church we would attend

The little yawns waking up in bed

The little cars we drove

The cave by the cove.

I miss the little things we had. 

The little furnished apartment we shared

These memories are the barrel down which I stare. 

I miss the little hugs we gave

The situations which we escaped. 

Im going to throw myself into the sea, 

Until these memories are the death of me.