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*Lying alone on a mattress of caverns
Pillow sham dreams only cool on one side
Twin fitted sheets in a queen-less adventure
Beneath a blanket of tears drops I hide

Headboard illusions cast vacancy shadows
Along the place where the bed is still made
Unruffled covers are lost in translation
LED numbers past midnight displayed

Caught in the silence so loud it is deafening
Even the moon cranks its volume too high
Shouted my prayer though there won’t be an answer
Folding away endless questions of why

Soon every star in the sky will be leaving
Shimmers will fade without even a care
Space quickly made for a hopeless sun rising
Another morning I won’t find you there

You look me in the eyes and spit,
          And I kick dust on the wet spot on the ground.
This is how we are, a conversation; you never cared to call me something like my name.
           I never cared to see you in any way but under my boot with blood on your teeth.
               There is no moon above us, even when the sun’s gone to hide at the nearest bar.
This is not a war that can be won with pickets and strikes.
The only way to end the battle
                                                Is that someone has to die.
        A standoff only ends when one is left standing, it’s the rules,
but you never did care for rules, and breaking is easier than bending.
               You never apologize and I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth.
            The sun’s gone to hide at the local bar and it drinks whiskey shots like water.
It has seen us fight.
            The moon doesn’t want to come out, stays tucked safe in its bed.
It has heard stories.
                         Only the stars act as referee, calling out which one of us died better.
            It’s all an act, a ******* contest, and you sure are good at wetting the ground.
                 I’m better at covering up where the bloodstains were,
                         stain chicken feathers red as the sunset, Please, I ask you,
Let him win one last time.

                               The hourglass broke, the sand mixing with the red clay,
And you claim to know that his time is up.
                 I claim to know that you’re a lying ******* who takes what isn’t his.
                        And you claim that I’m just a child,
                                           but children don’t know why their knuckles are
bleeding
                                           and children don’t get why their jaws hurt
                                           and children only bleed when summer is restless
                                           and children never pull real guns anyway.
          You brought a knife to a gunfight,
                 a gun to face the firing squad, a one child firing squad,
                    knees stuck together with blood and chicken feathers.

Please, you ask me,
Let me win one last time.

                     And I learn that breaking is easier than bending;
And I learn how my name sounds on your lips.

I wish you were here tonight.
To hold me.
To share my breath.
I wish you were here tonight,
instead of this merciless memory.