Don't Make me Lose You Twice

I know you aren’t religious.

I'm not either.

but

all I want to do

is find god.

In the name of you.

I pretend that I'd bargain.

Offer half my life

for even a fraction of yours.

I like to pretend that I’d plead.

Beg them please.

But I know me. And you know me.

As soon as I saw their hallowed face

I'd lunge at them, pin them down.

Feral and ugly and ragged.

I'd sit on their chest.

Shouting and Screaming and Wailing.

I’d claw at their flesh.

Weak and helpless and incomprehensible.

And I'm sure they'd look me,

this pitiful devil, rotting on top of them.

Watching as seconds of theirs,

and years of ours,

pull the life from my bones.

And as the light would fade

from my withered, dried up eyes,

they'd stand up with ease

and hold me like a child.

Whispering that they know.

They know that it hurts.

But I can't find god,

and I'm terrible at bargaining,

and I don't weigh a lot,

and I doubt their words would be kind.

After all,

they're taking you from me.

So please,

Let me hold you,

Let me shout and scream and wail with you.

Until god pulls the life from your bones.

And maybe if I say please,

maybe then they’ll be kind,

and pull the life from mine as well.