as you light their way
down a carcinogen lit path
to the revolving door of the
city morgue
And I feel bad
I really do
About constantly reminding you
in quiet comments and angry rants
But sometimes I feel if I had
put out a torch or
jammed the door
I might have you a little
longer
I might see you
a little more
I might know you
a little better
far beyond my own sadness
failed attempts
ashy wishes
beyond reality
heaped in piles
at your feet.
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