If I had died the night before I left
If after we went out to dinner (because you said we never go out and do nice things)
after I got tired of wearing a skirt and we got high and watched cartoons
If I had died that night, then I would still love you
If that night, while I was asleep, my heart had just
thump thump
thump thump
thump
thump

thump

stopped

then it would have loved you last.
You would hurt so bad, I know, and I'm so sorry
but you're hurting now anyway.
If I had died the night before I left
Then we would be frozen pristine

30 years from now you'd maybe remember me sometimes and think yes, I miss her.
But you would carry my love with you.

Even if I had died the night before I left, then I still wouldn't be able to fix you.
(I promise you don't deserve to hurt the way you do)
If I had died the night before I left, you would still love me.
I would be your patron saint, and everything I'd ever said would still hold my love
(I know you don't believe me, but you don't deserve to hurt the way you do).

If  I  had  died  the  night  before  I  left
I  wouldn't  ­have  abandoned  you.

you would sit by my bedside and hold my cold hands and you would know the last thing I thought of was you

if i had died the  night  before  i  left then I would be yours to keep
I would serve as a reminder that there is a spirit who eternally loves you
someone whose loved burned down so deep to their core that it stopped their heart
(i'm sorry)

If I had died the night before I left, all my promises would be safe and intact. If I had died the night before I left, I wouldn't be a disappointment, but a martyr.
The space in your head taken up by my name would not be a stain, but a battle scar.
(i'm sorry)

It is like silence
collapsing on you with the force of a black hole.
And it is very dark
and you feel so completely, utterly alone.

And far away, you can see the light of the stars.
You’d never doubt that they’re there, of course
you can even see them, just out of arms reach.
But for the life of you,
you don’t know how to get to them.

So you wait
and you bide your time
until you find a ship to sail you to the stars.
But until then,
you spend your time convincing yourself
that you don’t mind the dark.
You watch other people sailing over to the stars
on their own ships.
Maybe one day, one of them will stop for you.
But not yet.


And you just want to scream.
You want so badly to scream and cry and thrash about
within your little black hole
You want to grab the universe by it’s seams
and pull it apart and rip it to shreds and stomp on it
maybe if the anger’s enough, you’ll *** it up
and eat it
just because you can.

But your screams are lost to others.
In fact, they never even leave your little black hole.
They are simply crushed back into you
and they become dark and heavy
and begin to weigh on your heart.

So you watch,
with a growing blackness within you
at the others who reach the stars
and see the light, and feel the warmth.

But not you.
Maybe your ship will come someday
but not today.
So you sit in silence, and you wait.
A morose, forsaken cosmonaut
adrift, alone, in space.