11/30: snow white

death did not come in the form of

a prick of a needle

a curse of a rebel

a bite of an apple.

I thought it'd come in

a car crash

a disease

a bullet i catch.

no, death took the form of

sounds heard

moving lips

5 words.

1. i

2. think

3. i

4. love

5. him.

do you hear that?

it's the sound of every syllable falling from your lips and

tumbling and rolling across the floor and

crawling up my legs to my thighs to my chest and

they're wrapping themselves around my neck and

draining and taking all the life in me that's left.

and your eyes flashed before my eyes—

i think i love him.

it rings in my ears and for the first time in my life i hear something louder than your smile and

who knew that five syllables could take a life and

i mask my passing with a crack of a joke to match the sound between my lungs and

i

think

my

heart

broke.

i think i love him.

i think i can't think anymore.