I would try and keep this facade alive
"Stay, please, I have no reason but, stay.."
I'd murmur.
Not aloud, though.
I'd say, under my breath:
"the sorrows that find their way into my bed,
have become too much,
and I suffer withdraw'l matched not even by death's hand itself,
that silver fog is a sun-bathed mid-afternoon portrait,
in comparison."
he sighs
~
but,
letting go,
every ****** time,
my ******* limp wrists,
have not an ounce of containment facility,
and I'd just keep lying to myself, in cold white bedsheets,
whispering:
"I'm alright."
"I'm fine."