An odd sort of Poetry · death is a good friend · vice and all her ailments

tell you everything


I told everyone once:
“If your life is the only life you ever save, that will be enough.”
I can tell you everything.
I could will my words to
Save your soul
~and I do~
But I could never
Say those things to myself.
Those things I so badly need to hear.
And I want to apologize
To myself for that,
But as soon as the words
Slip through my lips
They lose their sweet flavor
And I spit them out
Every damn time.