Air

The days were left
a cloud of smoke
and the scars
are one too few.
I left her in the rocking chair
to die, once more, alone.

Those people never know
how to say the words
I pretend they might
just say.
I left her in the rocking chair
to die, once more, alone.

And we sang for faith
a final time,
could never sing again
with undeserved attention
that always leaves me
ashamed.

The days I left
in a cloud of smoke,
screaming out your name
and shot myself with a black revolver
never to speak again.

Rock, old rocking chair, rock.