i still sleep with the light on in hopes it will travel through my ears into my dreams faster than the train did the night your blood was too full of liquid confidence for you not to throw yourself in front of it as if you were invincible.
i know i am supposed to be angry with youβ but is it wrong that air does not feel any sweeter to me without your sour breath?
is it wrong to miss your smell of whiskey because at least that meant your heart was still trying to clean out its wounds was still trying to find a way to beat around all the debris that was telling you to throw yourself in front of a train.
the parts of me that want to believe it was an accident wonder did you even see the train? was it just another collision to you? where were you trying to go? did you ever get there?
the parts of me that knew you better think maybe it was one final exercise of control. one last act of heroism; the only way you could think to save yourself and the world around you. maybe the truth is you can not stop a falling starβ all you can do is save everyone beneath it.