When she wants someone to slap her ass and pull her hair,
She’ll miss me.
When the void aches and she needs it pumped and filled,
She’ll miss me.
But when the rain drums lonely against the glass,
Will she remember?
Or when she lies alone with no hand to hold but her own,
Will she remember?
When choking herself doesn’t steal her breath like I did,
She’ll miss me.
When flipping herself over won’t let her hit it any deeper,
She’ll miss me.
But when the weight of the world wears her down,
Will she remember?
Or when memories fade like sand through glass,
Will she remember?
Probably not.
