I don't want to,
no.
I can't say the vile words that taste like vomit as they leave my mouth and turn to sound,
She's dead.

My mind is spinning like a merry-go-round on high speed,
my stomach is churning like a witch's brew over an open fire,
I've said it, she's dead.

She hasn't gone off to a far off land to frolic with the bunnies and the deer through luscious green meadows where it's sunny everyday and starry every night,
She's dead.

Her being is still present,
the raspy sound of her voice,
kissed by cigarettes "I love you".
The tight hold of her hugs "I love you",

no, no, no!

I'm sorry, I can't hold on any longer. I must say the vile words that taste like vomit as they leave my mouth and turn to sound,

You're dead.