open your car door, light up a cigarette i say there’s something special about cigarettes, but I don’t know what unbuckle seatbelt you tell me it’s the way you are prolonging a suicide it’s like the world is watching you jump off a bridge, but not do anything about it because the fall is slow i laugh and don’t say anything
leaving your house at 3 am you tell me not to die because the roads are bad and I can barely drive I snap at you and say don’t tell me not to die tell me you hope it’s instant
on top of a parking garage my feet almost froze and i looked at you and thought to myself that you are the type of person i would write poems about not being able to write poems about and i wanted to go home but decided to stay
you did not kiss me goodbye but, neither did I unbuckle seatbelt you asked if i wanted another cigarette i shook my head and left you pulled out of the driveway i hope it’s instant