The wound was too much, this time.
And my fear that you’d succeeded was so great
that it filled the room with its
terrifying potential.
So in the chaos, in the half-light and the
bandage wrappings and the cold;
I hadn’t realised, at first.
But you’d meant it, when you’d told me you were lost.
And when you’d laughed, and had sworn
that you would make me angry
if it were the last thing you did.
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