Please do come back, shove me into the heaving blood-velvet couch again, crush my ribs with your love as you whisper to me again all the reasons I deserve to die.
Whisper me to the bottom of an urn coughing with the imprints of my own mistakes,
blind to the clarity of painted autumn trees,
whisper a silent rain that drowns me by the brain
as I stand here waiting for the clock’s fingerless hands &
thinking morbid thoughts.
Stay with me, please stay, misery.
For every time you leave the ears echo with flatness and the couch stops beating torn-heart’s blood and I feel