the last of you

I dreamed about you
last night
you were dead
again
wandering my world
a mute phantom
searching for a portal
grasping at my breathing
trying to plug yourself inside me
but you'd only breeched my dreams.

despite myself,
I worried for you
knowing your path
ends at a grave.
your path
is littered with needles
pills, chore boys
and glass tubes.
knowing
your demons will chase you
into a six foot hole
full of tears and brokenness.

I left you to your path
four months ago
I realized
demons who chase you
would kill me
I'm the wrong mix
of self-hate and abandonment
to pull you out of
an early grave
without falling into it
myself.