I take the last boat on the Icchhamati River.

the huddled shadows in the gloam
talk of home
a waiting bed
before climbs the moon overhead.

In little comforts voices bask
amid oars sloshing the night
and  I brood in silence
neath the  northern star

how far is home
how far?

cold hands
around my throat
dragging me under

i hold my breath
and clench my sheets
as if they were
an anchor

but when the wave hits
i am always swept away

I count the pills that were discoloring into the bile on the kitchen floor.
Like when you hold skittles in your sweaty hands for too long.
The contrast between the comparison made me shudder.
Though at that moment I did feel like a child.
The red was almost comedic against the white tile.
The beer cans were a crescent moon around the scene.
I can see you there sitting on the cold floor.
Palms on the ground, back against the corner.
I can see it and you were beautiful.

I straighten up.
My heart tumbles down into the pit of my stomach.
I feel so selfish.
I was glad to have you as my companion in this alternate world.
This world where for so long,
I felt like the only one to want to live there.
Now you are here, with me.
Of course you are.