Like the sweet slipping of the needle under skin, slow and painless, just close your eyes. The blood flows out through your transparent flesh, pouring over your soul like a bridge. Smooth and careless. Free. The burning embers race through your body, fingertips pulse with the beating of your heart, an injection of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You remember once, back before the misery and ecstasy converged all at once through your heart, when it only took one brush of her lips to make you feel this way. Weightless and warm, that high that only came when your bodies met.

But now. The faint scent of her, mixed with the drugs and the sweat, still clinging hopelessly onto the sheets, driving you to sickness every night. Pushing you over the edge. Her picture still hangs on the wall opposite the bed, eternally crooked on its axis, the lopsided grin still nudging you into a dreamless coma, drug induced and pulsating with your sobs.

That bright silver on the table across the room. Fly away from here on the wings of a high. Just close your eyes. Reach. Your hand closes around the bittersweet resolution. Push. Through the battered skin and veins, feel it soar in your mind. Spread your wings, feel the sorrow wash away, the memory of her drifting farther downstream. Just close your eyes.

Then you hear it. A whisper in your heart. Don't die. She wouldn't want it. She wouldn't want it to end this way.

Your lips part; feel it. That saccharine burst of oxygen rushing into your mouth, and she's there. In and out. Breathe.

And you know. Don't let the misery drown her memory. Go on remembering her lips, her body, her skin. And live. Live.

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