I remember how it felt shutting down
not like when you turn off the lights
and leave a vanilla candle burning
as you read yourself to sleep
not like it feels to turn off your phone
and just listen to the waves hug the beach

I remember hitting the floor so hard I still have a bruise
and I remember 567 outgoing phone calls,
to you
I remember you telling me you hated me
that you never loved me back in three years
I remember crashing my car into a tree
going 103 miles per hour, the doctor telling me the impact should have killed me
sometimes I wish it had
I remember you telling me you wished it would have
in that same ten minutes but still not feeling
that same pain in my chest as the steering wheel
broke three of my ribs and the prerecorded message telling me
to leave a message at the beep was the last time I heard your voice

I remember shutting down
and how I could **** a thousand gardens
before I'd have taken enough lives
to have mimicked the feeling when I thought mine was ending
but those flowers would have died
I only shut down
I still live with it
every day and I don't know
how much longer I can take the pain
I remember shutting down a year ago today
but it still hurts enough,
I'm still tired enough to feel like it was yesterday