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I want to take your face all in, 
tattoo it underneath my eyelids,
so I see you whether you are near or far.
Trace a map of your bones, cheeks,
nose and mouth, 
with trembling fingers, as I try
and memorize it all by heart.
So that in moments like these, instead of hovering above the phone
wondering if I should let you know,
that I need you, miss you, that I have to have you now,
I can conjure up you in my mind.

These things inside me, the sparks and demons both,
they haunt my dreams and days, and nothing I try keeps them away.
I am sorry for the trouble
— and I am sorry for not telling you everything  
It is harder than I’d ever thought 
just to open up my mouth,
to make the words come out.

Around my neck hangs a golden bullet,
and with every tiny move
I try and make myself believe that you felt it too;
that the simple silver chains keep us in a perfect tune.