The sad truth is,
I have embodied you,
And your allegedly merciful soul.
Your steps are my movement.
Your thoughts are my substance.
Your words are my speech.

The sad truth is,
If you have become the product of my being,
If you have become the living tongue in my throat,
Then darling, I'd rather be mute.

Would it be alright
If every few late nights
I gave you a call?

This time I won't stall
I just want to tell you that I miss you
The objects of my endurance are few

I was hoping for some closure
I'll keep my composure
It'll hurt me more than you, I swear
My head keeps echoing your words, "I still care"

Sometimes I just want to hear your voice
Telling me that I was your first choice
Even through the cracks of a telephone
I'd feel less alone

After that we could sit in silence
I'll try to hide my reliance
At least I'll know you're there
Tell me that you still care

I could tell you that I miss how you lit my cigarettes
And how you crumble for silhouettes

You could tell me about your ex
And how your bodies would intersect
We could complain about the tortures of being untouched
I could tell you I miss the way our hands clutched

I could tell you that the grace of you left a void that my every thought trips up and falls through
But you'll probably misconstrue

I could tell you about how dull life has become since you left

This will be history to theft

I could tell you that I'm depressed
But you'll be unimpressed

Or we could just sit in a breakable silence
And let the connection be our defiance

You hold a flame for a tongue
I watched it ignite faster than light
And burn in fierce movements

Your words were like sparking embryos
Landing hastily against the air

And before you knew it
Forrest fires emerged
Your fingers menacing with arseny
Buildings thrown to their knees

And now you stand beneath the falling wreckage
Stagnant with terror
Paralyzed with fright
Oh so close to preordained death

Soon you'll encounter flames once more
A thousand replications of your bitter speech
Burning

And burning

And burning

Beer bottles empty fast

And before you know it
You're face down in a black hole
Of all the words she said
That dug twelve foot tunnels in your veins
And went there to die

Then you're suffocating in a puddle
Of ache and spilled liquor
Dangerously falling for the concept of death

But who knows
Someone might save you
*Or someone might not