A collection of you.

Groping hands find you in the darkness, the reassurance needed to fall back asleep.


I may never know the awe of dreaming while asleep, not even you can bring me that miracle. But you do keep the nightmares away, the darkness around the edges fading into the backs of eyelids. How could I ask for more?


I know me.
You know me.
Can I get past this?
 How?



I can complain and whine and moan and yell and scream and threaten to leave. But, at the end of the night, when you tell me you totaled your car, my first thought will always be: how can I live without you? And then I really have to get creative. Because I can say I'm suicidal all I want, but it never felt so real as when I remembered you were not immortal.