Work Text:
I grip to both your shoulders and shake.
Vision swimming, eyes burning, full of fright.
The absence of breath makes my lungs ache
in a cramped room on a grey Tuesday night.
Crumpled in on yourself, tangled in sheets;
pills and empty glass caught in fabric.
You begin to shiver, giving me peace.
We stagger to the tub in quick panic.
Porcelain starts to warm with the bath,
blinking back droplets that merged with tears.
Stormy coughs, bile and pills leave my Cas.
Follow the stream as it all disappears.
You sniffed and whimpered, I don’t want to die.
“You’re not going anywhere, sweet cherry pie.”