I'm not afraid of the dark anymore and it could be because of this heavy medication or it could be the way the trees look like the most beautiful people I know and they shake and they droop like the way you do when you're alone with me and they tell me secrets like you did that night when I stayed to make sure you'd be okay and you survived that night because I held you and I've never felt so important as I do when you say you need me I've never felt so glad that the quivering willows remind me of her too long fingers and they graze the ground like they once did to my face I've never known that a tree full of leaves could be as wonderful as the spindly bones of bark in winter that remind me of the hollowness I've known until I felt the strength of your torso keeping me from stumbling to the ground and doing the no good messy thing that trees are incapable of. And I'm not afraid of the dark anymore because I have a purpose.

My therapist knows so much about you, but the next time I tell her what you've been up to, I'll have to tell her about how sad you got. I'll have to tell her your funerals coming up. Suicides not supposed to be poetic, but you're so beautiful even when you're bleeding out. It's hard to find words that don't sound pretty when they're said about you. I hope the flowers grow from your eyes. They'll grab the notches in your spine.

and I am empty
I am empty, holding your firm body to my chest
the feeling of your rib cage eating away
at what is supposed to be me
I am supposed to be here
your post mortem jet lag is nothing I
couldn't have guessed at before
unable to rest as you are here rather than I
why is it that you're so tangible
it was supposed to be you that was a shell
and yet you are here in my shell
the whole of what is left of me aching
to keep you in this strangle hold
I am full of what you've become
and I am empty