I am trying to write something meaningful but all I can think of are your lips
and how, if given the chance, I would gladly die by them.

I am trying not to love you because I know it makes you nervous.

I am trying to stay alive but what do you do when the people you're living for
would be better off without you?

And if you're not living for yourself, then for what? For who?

Love has killed me just as it has killed my mother;
Slowly, selfishly and forever.

I inhaled your pain and didn't exhale and
I think that is what has killed me.

I've not died by your lips,
but my own.