Senseless, nonetheless

That you should love me for every ounce of my being here,
but, it is only when I am here.

that you truly love me.

The walls, they speak,
I lay, ears to the stucco, praying you aren’t the one mocking my perpetual inloveness I have for you.


Poison.

and , for a brief moment,

I was almost sure that my not being there,
was still enough to know that you could love the thought of me just as much.

tell me, what do you think hurts more?
the suffering,
or the dying...


-I should’ve known