if i'm not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on
I feel like your eye is always on me, penetrating into my thoughts with long strides and perfect posture, a thousand nooses slung over your arm and ready to be hung from the gallows of my mind. But when you perch my only possessions upon their rickety pedestals, promise me you won’t let the heavy rope hide the silver chain already dangling around my
slender
ivory
neck.
I don’t
want you
to
watch
me
cry
and then tell me that
I’m
wrong.