• sagnik_sarma 36w

    Waiting Rooms

    May, I do not wish to die in a strange bed. You tell me I'm short of pills, not to come home tonight. My penny only buys me a minute of sanity, your voice, and I'll savour every second.
    Your flowers are within an arm's reach, and I do not need breaths to form words. When they pinned me down, I wish you weren't scared for me.

    May, do not let despair take you. When the breeze brings me to the window, I know my heart's warm enough to hold a stranger's hand. It's easier to cry for faces that we see on billboards, than it is to proxy for the recipients of our last letters. I'm a private person, and let it be known that my pen slowed down for this bit.

    May, we're too young for this to last. I see how their hands tremble with the syringe, I know I'm doomed. Listen to me carefully, when the televisions count me too, do not listen to them.
    You're my story, tell it to everyone you've asked for help.