I’ll be quiet to keep you quiet. Don’t concern yourself with my slow dying. Through the vents I hear you sigh. I don’t get too high these days. Your floor is my ceiling. Lights out, you can’t come in. If you don’t remind me, I won’t forget you. If you don’t ask, I won’t upset you. I am jet black. I am stone cold. Jet black to the center. Funny like a funeral. I need you to bury me. White noise in black room dust. These hands long for one last touch. Hourglass all out of trust. I don’t scratch so I won’t itch. I don’t reach so I won’t miss. I taste our last kiss. This is the cure: the same as the symptom. Simple and pure: break to keep fixing. Patiently nurse, patient and nurse. This is the part I wouldn’t show you. The part where you say, “I don’t even know you.” This is your cue. Be glad it’s through.