last night i had a dream i was dying
at first it was a lot of pain
but then it was quiet
and it happened at the end
of a Finding Dory sequel

i read a poem about heartbreak
and it made me think
that what i want isn’t to hear you speak
to me like you used to,
i just want to repeat
the words you did say, not just in my head
not silent, not stuck in the back of my throat
but out loud with some tissues and a tv remote
to press skip when you kissed me and play when you spoke
and try to hear if you really meant what you wrote
out in texts and letters at one in the morning
or in the passenger seat of your mom’s mini van
that i think she may now have retired

my therapist told me
that saying that the reason i’ll never **** myself
is that it would hurt the people in my life
is an admittance of my own self-worth
do you agree?
i think if i died it would **** you
and i don’t think death speaks to you
in the same language as it does to me
so maybe you wouldn’t like that
i know i wouldn’t like that
i know i wouldn’t like you to die