I'm alone.

It's dark.

Three fingers on my right hand smell like cigarettes, even though I just washed them with soap.

My mouth tastes sickly sweet like the morning after binge drinking, even though I brushed my teeth twenty minutes ago.

There's a single tear starting to drip from my right eye where it's been welling up for the last five minutes, even though I'm not crying.

The music stopped playing, even though I didn't want it to.

loss

I can't help but want to talk to you..

I feel like it's all I've ever done..

all I've ever known..

every feeling I have

I want to gift to you even when I know they're not the kinds of things people want.

you used to say it didn't matter what other people liked.. you would take everything..

now it's all broken.

and so am I

just breath

it won't die if you let it breath

loaded

there is no resolution.. no easy one.

but it's the tiniest bit easier to make a brash decision when you're not around.. the trigger seems lighter when I've had a few and I don't have to see your face..

...

my hands are covered in gun powder.

I already regret even holding the gun

infected

I would pull the trigger..

But I think you would respect me more if I did.. and I don’t want your respect..

I’ve only ever wanted your compassion. Your temper.. I want you to feel something.

Why won’t you feel anything for me..

I’ve loved you, I love you. MORE than anything I’ve ever cared about before.

I’m scared I will break without your stoicism.. No matter how you treat me the gun has always went off so many times before.. you’ve just never seen the wounds. But if you walk away I will die from gangrene ..

you’re presence has kept the infection at bay..