I cannot tell you how it ends,
the drowned symphony of our lungs.
I know how it feels to be in a car crash and survive.
That’s the heartbreak.
The tips of tomorrow around the corner, I’m not ready.
You used to hide the knives from me. A kind of love.
You were my weapon to the depression
now there is just an abundance of guns in my dreams.
Love is the opposite of forever so tell me why you made it
out alive, healed like a child’s first bruise.
I walk on the streets of the city, suitcase behind me.
I packed what I could remember of myself into it.
Everywhere hearts are beating and I—
well, I am the note in the song released into the sky—somewhere not heard.