It's painful every time I call upon your arms to suffocate the song I'll sing until the past catches up to me. I beg you, remember me last night. I've paid for every hour spent dancing with her ghost. Though I hammered every night, I couldn't keep the coffin closed. Now I'm hung on every nail, but I need a reminder that you came. I'm nervous every time I'm well enough to call. You couldn't make me any better. (You shouldn't help at all) But this establishes my role as dependent and eager to move on.

So leave me in this pose, unblinking and untouched, the portrait of a lover who presented love as such. I swear the frame will hold. Though it splinters, the shape remains the same. Make note of this exchange because it may be our last. Stop interrupting me. If you care about this mess then you'll leave it as it is, because at least if it's not clean, I know it's mine. Then I'm in your room again, just inches from your bed. Why?