maybe if I stay in this bed I'll be able to wilt like the flowers on my nightstand

my petals will fall off the edge of the blanket, smooth and graceful on the bedroom floor

maybe I'll waste away into the covers,

diving into duvets and curling my toes into the edge of the covers

i just really wanna die

and I want it to be in this bed so it can be pushed down the river like a casket

holding my temperance and my sin in the palm of my hands

as the water drags me and the pillows deep under

deep

deep

under

it's quiet, there