Heartbeat

Does your heart beat like mine? Unsteadily picking up the pace with every thought, any precious memory tied to you? I am tied to you. You are a brick attatched to a rope tethered to my foot. Yes, it is you who pulls me down fast, the bubbles swirling around me. Panick and confusion suck the air from my lungs, but it was I who jumped from the bridge. As the weight of you and my decisions pulls me down I do not regret it. Even though I cannot breath, I am tied to you and I will not let go. I will remain drowning and I will not put up a fight.

I am the one standing in front of a loaded gun. Whether you are the arm and fingers that pull the trigger or the weapon does not matter. I do not run. But when you find me in a pool of my own blood you will find a letter. It is my last word to you so that you may know my blood stained confession that could only be revealed in death, for courage was no match for rejection.

And how does your heart beat holding mine? I am the pacient in the ER whose only hope is in your hands. You pulse and pulse, but you don't really mean to save me? How does it feel to have my life in your hands? With my last breath I would mutter only your name and nothing else would need to be said. The truth can be seen in my eyes. You were the death of me, but you gave me life.