a gun -
shot wound
to the heart
breathe - just
fucking breathe
he won't lie
still and the
red pool reaches
nearer
reaching like a
hand towards
me
at my feet
I stare at it
and remember
laughing
we didn't laugh often
I'm not like
that
but we would succumb
occasionally
I remember the feel
of his hair - the
way the roots
felt as I brushed
from them with
my fingers
my fingers remember
the touch of his
coat
the scratchy,
uncimfortable
fabric
why did he wear
the fucking thing?
the scarlet stain
has reached my toes
now
I fight the urge
to place my hand
in his
I need to focus
He needs to -
focus
please, just listen
to my voice
put your heartbeat
into it
into me
control
control
control
he is becoming
heart -
less
why has he
choosen me
to save him?
twice now
he says I matter
the most but it's
bullshit
he doesn't want me
he wants my
skills
to find a body
and fake
it
to wait years
no - two years
in silence so heavy
I feel like my lungs
have collapsed
and now to pull him
through - back through
the cavity in his chest
to force the blood
back into his breaking
body
whilst my hands
shake with fear
night terrors
and the shape of
his face as I
dragged him
(back to life)
by the roots of
his hair