We make dead bodies out of our beds.
Sleep with them like our best friends.
Back to back,
Spine to spine.
Our relationships put pillows over,
The unresponsive corpses.
Suffocating the coal of closeness,
And we trample through our mattress.
Each thread is tied to the same letter in a vein connecting hearts.

Through ink and blood.

The noose holds our grieving neck
The pillow suffocates our  cowardice
A syringe stops guilt we can't make up
And a final bow and jump ends our regret


For not being what we once knew we should be.
I melt with you in the end.

Suicide pact friend ship.
Notes to the dead.