poetry for the poetic: 5

LXXI

and you'll take your last breath
while i smoke my lungs away
but i'll try to quit
i've been burying myself
the coffin
i've been filling it with regrets
the day will stretch
and my hands will grab
the sun like a bug
we wanted to dispose
but you'll soon return
you may not be yourself
like waking up from deep sleep
we've been interrupted
we've been misguided
and no, you don't get
to redo anything you've done wrong
but if you wake up one day
know that i'll be right here
trying to quit where you've lost
and you'll smile knowing
that at least i did try–

so i'm trying.