Yellow Bird, aren't you coming?

Should I roll back into nothing. A ghost into a house with many beds, and a large window with a large sill you once said you would make your writing nook. And read and drink hot cups of tea and coffee. I can still see you there, in my future. A wet, gray and fogged morning out there. And you're across the room at the window. I feel like maybe I shouldn't create this dream and hope. That one day, you'll pull down my driveway. Find me working on something outside, and sweating. Or riding. Or i see you through my front window in the cold with my fire burning. I feel like maybe I shouldn't create this a dream and a hope.  But you know what? **** holding back.
I'll believe onward in you even though you might not ever pull down my driveway, one day.
I deserve nothing for my emotional abuse that was placed upon you by my doing. I get why you may never come down the drive.
I still want to hold onto that thought. Because that might keep me alive through these years, even though i don't really feel like livin' anymore. I'll be there. Off of that high way, i will be there if the dark doesn't take me away. If the need to pass on doesn't become to much. I would drop to my knees if you pulled down that drive some day. You would hear the gravel in my voice and see the struggle on my brow. I may roll back into that house, or a second deployment in the desert, or death. Death is easy, no last good fight left in giving up on myself. Even though it would hardly matter anyway. You would come down my drive. And i would drop, and i would cry. Because i do cry, because i've been crying, because i'm crying now.
That place out there, where I will reside, where i may hide. You're always welcome to venture out. Sometime. The future is always uncertain. Come and hug me, come and scream in my face, come and make me bleed, come and **** me lovingly, come and destroy me in every way you know possible. I'll be on my knees,
i'll be on my knees.

It was so god ****** cold, outside and in. The attic anyway.
My friends and I ascended two flights of stairs, in this burning winter air.
We came around the side of that house and my pocket buzzed the vibrations of a call. I reached right-handed for that call. Into my jeans, sliding over my bloodied knuckle from the day which we had already passed. It was your name lit up so holy on my screen, my eyes took seconds to tell my circuitry. I wanted seconds more from this name for me. Just to look and hold the vibrations knowing who was at the other end. And then I answered it.
The shaking voice of a boy turned man. And I heard your voice on the phone and then from above on the balcony past the wooden gate. And you told me directions, over the phone and I still heard you speaking 15 feet above. You kept speaking. And my comrades stoop solid on my left and right flanks, I am their reason for being here. And we went up and inside. Into the coldest attic i've ever had. Causing them to go for more blankets for themselves, they were so cold. I was cold. I shook a little and I tried to control it. At one point you shook too, I felt it from you. One friend by my side on this leather and the other took to the floor. He adapted to this new room, and these people so quickly. He sat and he operated with his surgical hands on his craft, his sport, well one of them. Loading drugs for all these kids to put into their lungs, and laugh it all up. Your friends did the same. One beside you and the other on the floor. Leaving you and I in the middle of this chain of bodies. I barely knew how to act, you showed the same thing. The drugs lacked warmth, you overpowered the dosage without lifting a finger. Mad isn't it.
I used my lungs for once, you seemed to open up sealed valves. The passages set free, for oxygen in me, no more stagnant words or only lifelessness to give so please, you may reach for what you need.
You've brought back the life and the light. All the while our friends surround us, and no one knows of what has just happened, but you don't either. You didn't try. And then you did.