I Can't Go Home

It reminds me of fear. It reminds me of pain. Because of love. It reminds me of all the beauty and all the hideousness that hides within us. It reminds me of anger and sadness, and light and fun. It reminds me of the sweetest, gentlest kisses I've ever tasted and the bittersweet remorse of winning the battle but getting massacred in the war. I feel death's cold stare, and I weep for it. I weep for me, and for Alex, and all that was, could have been and wanted to be. I hate that we cut short our love. We stood there, over the hospital bed, knowing that full responsibility of choice lay heavy on our shoulders, and on our minds. The pain comes from one ripping the cord out and one screaming to plug it back in while doing his best to resuscitate death. I can't go home tonight. I don't know when I can return to that lonely lair, and when to embrace the fear I feel so vulnerably. I'm fading now...fatigue is settling in, gripping me and thrusting me toward its demons. I think now is when. I think now is the time for me to go home.