i still jolt awake to the sound of your 3am suicide calls.
all that greets me is silence,
my phone isn't ringing but my ears are.

does it haunt you like it haunts me?
hyperventilating
every time i see a car in your particular shade of grey.
wondering why i can't keep liquor down anymore
or why clementines reek of deception,
or how many more night i will have to spend like this.

when i am with you,
i feel like i am dying,
but when i am not,
i fear you are.

i used to love the way you filled me with panic,
waiting for the next time your blood would be on my hands
and your hands would be creeping their way under my shirt.
not afraid of being alone, but
obsessed with the masochistic way you made me feel
needed.

someone asked me why i didn't leave sooner,
truth is,
i don't think i ever really left.