I Need You

My imagination has always been more graphic than most, but the idea of you redecorating a wall with the contents of your skull is in no way as upsetting as  
 
[the idea that Dad lay broken into pieces before he died]
 
the idea of your feet off the ground with your neck horribly stretched and your face stained black from the blood that couldn’t escape
 
[it’s always trying to reach the surface, that’s why knives are there so that we don’t become too swollen]
 
from your beauty because you really are so fucking beautiful like the scars that decorate both our bodies from separate lives  
 
[that neither of us really lived after that day when we stopped feeling and then felt too much]
 
lived at the same time.  
 
Death has always been something I’ve accepted and resigned myself to but for some reason all of a sudden the notion of death
 
[became the notion of Dad spread half a mile down the road waiting for someone to scoop him up in a bucket and try to put him back together again]
 
becomes much scarier when I associate it with you, even if the lines on your veins are beautiful I’m glad they’re only lines and not stitches because finding your pieces and putting you back together is my job and I’m trying my best
 
[but people always die and leave me when I need them the most, and everything just came crashing down around me]
 
to be your everything but I was only ever nothing to everyone and I hate the way my mind works but
 
[I’m scared.]



I'm scared because I love you, because my mind works in funny ways and to me

Love = marriage = waiting for kids to go to bed before you start screaming at each other = divorce = bitter death

and until now death has always = funerals but now

Death = rendering everything meaningless

I'm scared because you've climbed past the rubble blocking the entrance,  and now you're stood where no-one's ever reached... I collapsed the  doorway deliberately, you know? But you don't care and I'm glad you  don't care because I love you.