crowded thoughts

run

run

run
"run,"
you said to me on our first date,
the one where we walked across the entire
city bundled in our warm clothes,
drinking hot chocolate and talking.

"run,"
you said to me
when we were fooling around on our
second date, throwing paint at each other
in order to ease the anxiety.

"run,"
you would begin to say to me
before all of our dates
so that we would have all night to spend
with just each other.

"run,"
you would say to me
after we moved in together
and needed to catch the nearest bus or train.

"run,"
you would say to me
when I was left alone all evening,
waiting for you to come home,
only for your breath to smell toxic.

"run,"
you would say to me
when I locked myself in the bathroom,
black filling my head and
my hands becoming red.

"run,"
you would say to me,
my blue and yellow skin crawling
at the sound of your voice
entering our cozy, warm apartment.

"run,"
I would begin to tell myself
when I realized you were going
to be gone all night long.

"run,"
I told myself,
watching as I was being zipped up
in a yellow body bag,
my face completely unrecognizable.

"run,"
I tried to tell everyone who was
patting your back and sending you
the saddened condolences that belonged to me
at the funeral that you caused.

"run,"
I tried to say
to the girl holding his hand
over my casket that was being filled
of the fresh dirt from my sorrows.

"run,"
I told myself on the very first date
I had with you,
the one where we walked across the entire
city bundled in warm clothes,
drinking hot chocolate and talking.