They Left Me

I hate to be left alone
or left behind and left for dead

flapping around in my tears
while playing suicidal soundtracks in my head

wishing to be in another place
in another time; I’ll be holding my breath

living life with the kiss of death
between my lips like a cigarette

puffing years away while fluffing
wild stones in my mental grave

and how I see the spirits of those
like me, giggling bye in waves

gone for days, without a warm hand
or the politeness of a gesture

they left me; sulking in badness with all
of my downtrodden thoughts to age and fester