Will you miss me?

I am dying in my bed,
I'm missing
this wind, that makes that tallest trees
outside my blurry vision
bend as I'm holding my breath.

And so I
hear you running
into my dreams, as I'm drowning
in the mire, that's only left to tire me
as I try to hold my breath.

So it kills me.
Is it real or agony?

Now as you see me,
as it's raining
in the May twelfth.
As I wake up screaming "What happened?"
And there's my ghost
in the corner
of your one room wide kingdom.
We were wounded by the sharpest daggers
as our weather-beaten hearts stop beating.

The world
around seems like that pictures
we looked at being children.
I know I'll never find again somebody just like you.

So simple,
but I see your little dimples.
You may never notice, that you look like your kind mother, that would die to save your soul.

And I feel it.
There's arson in my head.

I hope you'll miss me
in your weekends
I was stealing,
like I did with your old black sweatshirt.
Were you shaking,
making smoke rings
under umbrella, when I felt it?

I swear I'll feel it,
till my tortured heart stops beating.

Quarter of this century I spent in darkest sweat-box,
but you broke the locks and chains and caught all of their thrown rocks.
My hands worn down to bones and my head is monolith,
but I'm fresh out the slammer, I think I can breathe.

Even when I'm just dying.
I hope you don't mind it.

I hope you'll see me
in the quiet street.
You'll be surprised
and you'll run to me like you used to,
but I'll vanish.
Will you cry then?
I would cry the same.

I'll be memorizing your face, leaving,
cause it's time for my heart to stop beating.

Someday you'll leave me.
I'll turn to your old pretty memory.