we are three.
we are different. different energies.
but we bounce off each other.

each deserving of each other.
each being as one.
everything is better in three.

although three can sometimes bleed
one leaves now it’s only two
you. my person.

My eyes are painted the color of my dying flesh to kindly remind my reflection that it will get rest in the end.
My veins are constant reminders of times when I shared blood and broke flesh.
Please don't mind my voice -- I swear it sounds best to the dead.
I'm sorry if I have vocalized too much regret, but I knew that you would be listening alone in bed.