I have become painfully used to the way that your hand feels in mine. and the way that you laugh.

we spent too much time watching james bond, too much. we weren't heroes. we weren't.

I can remember that last day, when you danced around me in the kitchen, listening to simon and garfunkel and your mom made beef stew. when you danced around me and then out of my life, and I found pieces of bones in my stew that made my mouth bleed, but it didn't matter, did it? you said goodbye.

that was nice of you, because I have grown.

but every so often I spread out my fingers, expecting them to brush yours. and I pray for that to never happen again and I pray for that to happen every day of my life for the rest of my life and I pray for just our fingertips to brush.

I've been praying a lot lately, trying to ward off the devil in you with whispered words. but prayer never did make me feel better.

I think that getting used to you was the biggest mistake I ever made,
because I let myself drown now, without you.