I miss your hands. I lay here and pretend you’re near. Maybe in the next room. Maybe coming home after practice. I pretend you’re running late. I’m here. Just waiting for you. I’m just hoping you’re safe. Safe, so I can hold your face up to mine. So I can touch your lips with mine. So I can wake up near you. I love waking up before you to roll over and see you at peace. All I want is for you to be safe.

So fraile with a broken heel. All she has is one last cigarette and the drip in her throat. Her lies are all the same and now she is on the run for the last bump. She stumbles from her weak ankles and showing all the moist zombies how a ping pong fight will end. We all know how the fight with the light will turn out.