Smell the cotton and sleep.

I rest in my silver casket
and You, play blind
craving to hold My skin.

Stop.

Read your every line and know;

Im still here.
so near;
Please. Dont Leave.

If i was dead.
would heaven let me in? or
would it be black inky darkness i can draw stars on with a pen.

I'm just contemplating it,
not committing or planning;
but earthy ties and bounds just get so, so tiring,

if, I was dead.

6 feet under,
kicked the bucket,
and any other phrase that makes it easier to process;
in the end.

will it even matter?
or in 20 years will i say
"i was such a depressed *******".