i careen between
thoughts of you and death
try to vocalize what i’m feeling
but you nod and digress

your words are shards i wish to digest
your love, a memory i wish to forget

this is not a death-wish
this is a resurrection.
on nights, you grow
weary of the sound of
your own breathing,
there is a fierce sun
burning inside you,
you must use it to grow,
not to scorch all you have.
you have tender hands,
why do you use them
to peel away your
conscious?
there is a thunder in
that insipid heart of yours,
go, forage it out.

i walk on stilts
so no one can tell
how small you make me feel
does that make sense?
not everything makes sense
it doesn’t have to
you never did
and what i feel for you never does
i keep smashing our picture frames
and letting myself get cut on the glass
‘cause i’m not ready to clean up the shards
i don’t seem to be ready for anything
it’s been two months
since i’ve heard you sleep talk
and i swear silence
has never felt louder
now at night
i can't ever fall asleep
without wondering
how small her hands are
compared to yours
and if they’re enough for you to hold onto
i wonder how soft her lips are
and if you cringe
when she leans in for a kiss
sometimes i wonder
if i saw you in a grocery store one day
if we would make small talk
i wonder if i would want to punch your face
or caress it
i think i knew
that loving you
was a death wish
i guess i just didn’t realize that
you would refuse
to write the eulogy
or even show up
to the ******* funeral