the first time you left, left him broken, bleeding on the floor
he almost died the first time you walked out that door.
the first time you left, he ordered drinks, and drank until he couldn't hear himself think.
the first time you left, sent him on a lifelong crusade, sent him trying to find relief in a blade.
the first time you left, he went on suicide missions, sure for collision
with the sun, broken and burning, yearning.
the first time you left, he tried to dig the pain out with a knife, he tried to cut you out of his life.
the first time you left, cost him everything, all of it, every last bit.
the first time you left, he knew he would never mend, never be whole again.
yet he let you leave, even though it made him bleed
even thought it broke his heart, he tried to give you a new start.
the first time you left, he knew he would never find a relief from the pain,
never get you out of his brain.
the first time you left, nearly sent him to his grave, but he was brave
tried to go on, tried to be strong.
but the first time you left, left him really dying on the floor
and he died when you walked out the front door.