It must be two in the morning.
it's cold. Dark. The bleeding is relentless.
My fault.
I didn't ask for any of this
but in the end it is my fault alone.

I try to breathe.
how?
I can't.
it feels like
liquid nitrogen.
not oxygen.
I need air.
can't breathe.
chest collapsing.

I wake up.

two ten.

still dark out.

got a text
at ten something
from my Bluebird of Peace.
a list of inappropriate but still humorous jokes.

some are cringey,
but I still laugh or smile.
and so guilt and shame are washed from my mind,
as I debate running
to the bathroom
to wash the cold sweat off
that has drenched my skin
and clothes.

I keep smelling iron
though I know it isn't there.

the things I have seen
and the things I have lost
like to haunt me.

I would like to be a ghost.
to haunt them
in return.

instead I breathe in.
I breathe out.

I change clothes,
stripping down entirely to put on shorts and a t-shirt.
I put on his hoodie.
Wait for warmth.
Hold my old stuffed lion.

send my Bluebird
a text.

I need some type of noise,
but all I hear is snoring
and the dripping of a faucet.

I am glad
for instances like these
that I do not
live alone.

at least this time
i didn't cry myself awake.

one day
it will be different.

"That part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail."