i'm sorry that i want to die sometimes
because life is beautiful and i realize that
did you know
i wrote a poem about our fingers intertwined
before we've even met
well now
the only things that rest in my hand
are made of fleeting self destruction
while my vessels sleep in silence
quick
break any chandelier you might see
because your bones are similar to art
tired glass friend
we both lay sharp and deadly
on the dark wooden floor
so it only makes sense
if you cancel your plans