#1840

another dream haunting hallucination memory dream I cannot shake the morning after, my chest too light without his heavy head, my hands too clean so that I feel I must keep checking them for red stains, too vivid the memory of blood slick and warm and pulsing rhythmic as the tide as I pressed my hand to his throat to hold closed the wound, as I as you murmured it’s okay, it’ s okay when it is very much never okay, not ever, and I understand why you would and did do anything to get him back, in the shadow of the death goddess I too would offer up every other life if only to keep his a moment longer

today I am bathed red in his blood but no one can see it but me, and no one can hear your howling when I open my mouth

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