fingernails
trace,... my》 bones
morn°ing° coffee°°
& wine soaked
good{nights}
all~ in~ all
she should. be. what. i. want.
- so-who-knows -
what ¿season
could ever be¿
enough¿
^there's ^^no^^
《taking 《it 《back
you;strawberry
}moon} }
days2short
& lo _ _ ng _ _  es _ _t
nights. e\clip\se the
bl ack
tattooofyou
<can't << e <<< rase
skinonskinonskin
[however vague]
my highs//
my lows

Your voice is my alarm clock
Your scent like salts to bring me back
To another day of conflict,
As I brace for your attack.

The guns are blazing in this fight
It's high noon in this Wild West
But before I have time to load,
You've fired two into my chest.

Trust was lost with innocence,
But you still will play this game.
Only, you can turn it off,
I wish I could do the same.

I finally find a moment of peace,
But you decide that you want more.
I emptied the bench hours ago,
While you just run up the score.

And after all the struggle,
I collapse and close my eyes
On pillows of broken promises,
Blankets quilted out of lies.

I've made this bed I rest in,
Toss and turn throughout the night,
A greater foe, this time myself
As I relive every fight.

I spent years of my life in a fantasy world.

waters inhabited with murlocs
Forests with centuars and unicorns
I had badass armor
Spellbooks, Abilities, Charisma modifiers!

When you live in Dungeons and dragons you finish quests, unlock gods,
Slay Monsters

When my DnD group broke up

I didn't lose a group of friends.
I lost a party of adventurers

Their eulogies pronounced at the end of that final nat one
Will never be forgotten.

Portaits carved like improv comedy routines.
Characatures of our ideal selves
Bound, sealed, stuck on a book shelf
We deserved another sequel.

When the party healer crumpled her car against a Concrete wall at 70 miles an hour
It made sense nobody else knew how to cast raise dead.

In a world that is supposed to play out our ideal realities
it was no question her charecter lived eternal. the way she would have wanted.
The way we wanted so badly to be true.
Nobody felt right taking over her charecter.
And nobody wanted to **** her off.
So we wrote her story.
Every die she had tossed this whole adventure. Each murloc she ran from, each unicorn she rode, etched into a leather bound tome.
Placed Right on the same shelve we kept our pathfinder books.
Her headstone.
We never played after that.
But she did.
When we placed the novel next to the flowers her mother left.
We felt her cast healing song
one last time
And that night
We got a full rest