I wait.
You pulled the pin and now I wait, grenade nestled in my palm. Destruction signalled by a jaunty song, alive in my palm.
I don't know how long you have. I have.
I need to put it down to prevent myself from being destroyed. I can't let go.
And so I wait for the call.
A long wait, a slow death.
A short wait, a quick passing.
I don't know which I'd prefer.
Every second that you still breathe I long for you to wake, but I know that you suffer. A slow decline as you drain out slowly.
But I never want to get the call that tells me that you're gone. I refuse to hear that you are done.
I love you. I need to know that you are out there. Living large and breaking hearts.
I need you to be okay so that I can be.
