Back when I would hold her like teardrops,

With no regard for my blistering scleras.

The browns of my eyes, scratched out,

Leaving no room but hers.

What man would allow to fall from his pupils,

The kiss of an angel's breath?

If her burnt lips

Scorch mine, so be it.

(She called and said,

_Do you miss me yet?_)

November's sting fails

To not haunt me.

_Is this a dagger, I-_

Kneel before you.

_Fill from crown to toe,_

Like I could spill her

From these timid veins.

(I called and cried,

_Is it over yet?_)

I remember I tried smoking to forget,

_(Do you miss me? Do you miss me yet?)_

At the bottom of a shot glass sits a piece of me;

Might just gamble it away, if you wanna bet.

I said I think I'm going blind,

And my lungs are full of ash.

As the plane crashed, she asked

_Are we there yet?_