and all of this, I give to you

I put my head

between my bruised knees,

hang heavy here

in deep-watered reality,

nothing more real than

the salt scent of

blood.

everything fine,

just fine

except--

your emptiness

haunts my

very fingertips.

(begging)

please look up,

see the writing

etched in scratches

on the ceiling—

it is for you, friend!

I can do no more than this:

please! know that

your soul is a

small, brave, soft thing

in a large world--

they will try to eat it;

you must not let them.

you must fight,

cry, love,

lose,

& never forget

who made

you.

there is light left in you yet,

brave thing. you have

not lost it.

please believe me: when I

kissed your cheek—

I tasted the dark black bitter

of empty,

I found you were not well.

I was not frightened.

(but if so,

only a little,

only for you)

come,

it is an uphill battle.

I will fight it with you,

not for you.

please,

read again the words

etched from my own white fingers,

tracing memories of past

onto your shadow-eaten face:

you are worth so much

more than all of this—

before the darkness drinks

you dry,

tell me you believe it!

at least a little,
at least for now.