And every exhale is what I hope to be my very last.
Wandering alone in the caverns of my past like a child lost in the aisles of a supermarket.
Pulling back my hair on bandages so the iron can come up for air and ruin my favorite sweater.
Keeping myself alive just long enough to fade away slowly like you did when I first got sober.
Maybe if my heart was in my wrists you would come back and take whats left of it.
Three days from now death will permeate into the hallway.
Hopefully by then you'll remember that we were once in love.
See you at the funeral.