the dead are calling us
back to them; i know
you feel them pawing at
your ankles as you
walk, too.
i think they know how
close to dead we both
truly are. i think they're
waiting for us to
join them in hell.
it can't be too bad there,
autumn; we visit hell
every day together, right?
(maybe we shouldn't
have danced with
those devils after all.)
YOU ARE READING
aphotic
Poetry» she was the one thing that i loved as much as i despised. potential trigger warnings for a toxic relationship and alluded suicide
