Fly away, and die tonight,
That's what I told myself.
But as I held the blade,
I stared at a photograph on my shelf.

My green-eyed boy, head against my chest,
Stared back at me from where the photo rest.
"Don't do it," his eyes said,
Discouraging me to stain my knife with red.

Though I struggle, and sometimes drown,
I am the lover that he has found.
His safety is guaranteed while I exist,
But if I go, his name will be next on the list.

I will not transfer my pain unto him,
This agony, which is terribly dim;
That would be evil, because I love Michael,
He is the only one who makes my heart full.