theres this boy cold like his graveyard

tw for themes of overdose/suicide

sometimes I make tea but don't drink it, just feel the warmth in my hands for a bit before I go off to sleep

like a harm reduction overdose, without the debt

i was shaken while you drained me to my last push

and i never really minded at all

substitutions have grown cold now and I offer condolences no more 

while you recovered I declined rites of passage from others

saying there's this boy

there's this boy cold like his graveyard

the last photo I saw of you I had to wait, working until your last breath

picturing your mother sick across the sink

guilty and starved, it was hard for me to find anything to say to you at all

I waited for you to call

I wondered how many times you'd die

I wondered if this time was in my arms

clumsily written a while ago about a friend