by joe cunningham
i walk in my sleep.
last night i woke up on that dock.
i only have two dreams:
when i was tortured before you,
and after.
no one understands.
i would like to say i’m doing better.
i know i’ll never be able to speak to you again,
but if you ever see me in your dreams,
i want you to know i understand.
i know now i will never be okay.
i am okay with that.
i did something for you you will never know about.
it’s not your fault.
it’s not your fault.
it’s not your fault.
your face.
god, i miss you.
couldn’t light a match,
woke up on train tracks.
the train never came.
