I still want my life. I'll always remember; do not go gentle. Do not go gentle into that good night. I remember the words they said. Do not blame your wretchedness on the fallen butterflies and bumblebees. Do not wipe your fears on the foggy window pain, only to awake in the morning with regrets. I will remember those words they said. But you see I have unwittingly spit upon the flowers gowing. I have drowned in the sea, and I do not wish to be saved. I do not want pain to heal my wounds because I do not trust in god enough to let them. Yet I still pray, I still weep with my hands tied. I still know that I am unworthy. I still know that I am in pain, and I love it. It's keeping me alive... if only for a moment; because in that moment I can feel the blood rushing through me. In the moment of my suffering I can feel the wind galloping behind my ears... and I am happy. In my moments of pain, I remember who I am. Do not go gentle... I love you. I love you.

All that he had loved before, he had loved completely alone.

A sigh would pass bitten lips, ghosting into the heavy air with caution, and I would swallow it whole; darkness pulsating around the little tendrils that I could not hold... could not keep.