maybe if I stay in this bed I'll be able to wilt like the flowers on my nightstand
my petals will fall off the edge of the blanket, smooth and graceful on the bedroom floor
maybe I'll waste away into the covers,
diving into duvets and curling my toes into the edge of the covers
i just really wanna die
and I want it to be in this bed so it can be pushed down the river like a casket
holding my temperance and my sin in the palm of my hands
as the water drags me and the pillows deep under
deep
deep
under
it's quiet, there