the police radio is
screaming
like your mother-
(never has)
but i didn't
hear you in the
background
and when
i went to
see you
you wore a hat
to cover the
bullet wound
above your neck.
and you didn't move
even when i cried
(for you)
(because of you)
and i cried because
death
is supposed
to be beautiful
it is supposed
to be a
collaboration
of fungus
and blackness
that ends in
a teardrop.
death is not supposed to hurt (me)
it feels like
the first time
that i fell in love
because
when he left me
a part of me was scrambled into the pinpricks of the night
sky
(and i haven't been the same)
when he left me
i couldn't breathe
because he could knock the wind out of me
with his eyes (stareheavy)
and when you left me
i couldn't breathe
because you were my
breath.
and because now
when i breathe
i think of you
and my throat betrays me,
like your trigger finger betrayed you.
friend, please,
when i sit above the circle of ash,
(that was you)
spin yourself around me until once again -
you may be (yourself) my lungs.
i miss you friend !