I put you on.
You smell like campfire & have a stain somewhere.
I can feel you clutch to my skin.
I'm not sure how much longer I can do this.
You're dangling off of me.
It's a long way down.
I want to peel you off me.
But this has become something so much more than a bandaid.
I can already hear your breathing in my ear.
There was a time you held me and told me it would be okay.
Is it only in panic that you can really see me? Really touch me?
I crumple you up and try and toss you. But you're suddenly sown to the palm of my hand.
If I try to rip you from me, I'll bleed.
I will faint at the sight.
That can be guaranteed.
I'm waiting for tomorrow to come.
But tomorrow is too late.
You should told me yesterday.
There are words lingering.
I spilled out everything on the table, and hoped you'd pick up the pieces. Who was I kidding?
I am so tired.
Everything is ninety.
It's ninety degrees.
I'm boiling.
My flesh is melting.
My lungs are filling with hot air.
I'm suffocating.
It's ninety percent.
Sooner than later, I'll have reached the top.
What else will I have to give?
Here take my heart.
Take everything I have.
I don't own anything anymore.
Not even me.
It's too late.
I can't detach even if I wanted to. You're a part of me.
I wear you like a sweatshirt I've had for days and haven't washed.
I'm afraid that if I do, You'll wash away too.
I can see the tide now. It's too far out to see.
I wish you would have been there to see it with me.
Where were you? Why weren't you there?