I try to live my life
Like a eulogy.
Every action I make
A part of a well-oiled machine.

My words the cogs
Slowly turning over
Your tongue like a symphony
Of memories stained into
Your frontal lobe.

Because on the bad days,
Knowing that I mattered
To you makes it harder
To sink any deeper

And if one day,
I unzip my veins in the bathtub
Or fly from the ceiling
And explode into chaos
On the concrete,
Know that you mattered.