but if your arms were just a thousand miles closer
maybe I wouldn’t be writing this, pen to patient paper.
and if your eyes just welled up once for me, all over me-
maybe I’d be in your bed.

but if I google translated what you said to me a hundred times,
it would be oh, so simple, saying ‘I wouldn’t notice,’
‘I wouldn’t notice,’
‘if you’d killed yourself that day, I wouldn’t notice it.’
saying, ‘I hope you rot in that hospital room.’

and I’m here, screaming: ‘ALL MY LIFE, I’VE BEEN SINGING TO YOU’
and if your ears were a garden, they’d be singing it too.
and you’d hold me close in my hospital room.

I’m here, writing a poem in a hospital room.

but if your arms were just a thousand miles farther,
maybe you wouldn’t resent me so much.
and maybe if I didn’t promote you to Captain of the F*cking Titanic,
you’d jump off

you’d jump off.

and all I’m dreaming about is my hospital room.
hearing the caterwaul of Holden Caulfield’s tomb.
and I’m here, screaming: ‘ALL I NEEDED WAS SOMEONE LIKE YOU.’

and if your ears were a garden, they’d be singing it too.

if your eyes were a fountain, they’d be like mine.
and if your home was a casket, we’d be neighbors.
if your soul was a shelter, like I thought it was.
and if your arms were a stronghold