You are a time bomb, ticking and itching to
Blow in an instant and kill those you love.
And you wish you could stop it but this isn't your
Fault (well it is, it's your body, but it isn't your choice)
So you try to prevent it you no longer speak
Though you're tempted to try so you picture your casket
And family and him standing round dressed in black
So you stop and you manage to swallow.
You're always half-drowning and wish it was swimming because
Then it would at least make some kind of sense.
You hear of his wish and you stop not replying,
You're selfish, you think, but you want it so bad.
So you sip bottled stars and you cling to each other
(at least till he tells you the bad sort of news).
And then all at once you're no longer a time bomb
Because he has gone and exploded instead.
And you sit round his casket with friends and with family,
Huddled and grieving and shrouded in black. But you
Have to keep living your little infinity because, Goddamnit,
He will not die in vain.
And eventually time stitches up that
Particular wound like it does with all
things 'til you slip away quietly too.