I think I might have said to much, but I leveraged the conversation with a guilty admission from the other end of the line. I hold the cards, I have written the lay of the land, at least for now. But these saline stained cheeks can’t help but hide an apprehension that comes with entertaining the idea of of your volatility. An understanding of the subtle and profound impact you have on the homeland of my heart and psyche… this is a fragile game we play, I see your pawns still stay the course. Don’t faulter in guard, or rather, please do, and maybe I’ll get a chance to see your soul naked in front of all that you must constantly prove you are. 85, just one number shy of your own demise, but I held on for you even when you were losing grip, I traced the small of your back and kissed your neck when the thoughts weighed you down too much to lift your head. Thanks be to me as a bullet to the brain; a viper repays kindness with a vicious goodbye kiss filled with venom, numbs the skin until reality sets in. Awakening alone, bleeding on the ground. I think I might have said too much but I doubt anyone will recognize my words in the morning. I have one hand on the scale and one hand holding a bleeding heart. Whispers, sun rising… I feel them too.