Last 3 letters of the spring

I must find 

comfort 

in the slow mornings, or something as simple as toast 

‘cause what’s left. When my twisted skin hits you like bricks –

You must protect your walls, or worse

You must prove your worth to invisible kings

‘cause what’s left. When it’s empty in the room –

once full of clothes, coffee mugs left dirty, and little half friendships

I could have done it sleepless and barely breathing 

abandoning the god of my own in the name of OURS

In the midst of oblivion – oversized hoodies for men 

hiding all the truthful jokes about life, death, and leaving

If I were to be gone, or worse

If I were to be honest, and stay

Would you be wearing my smell on your clothes? 

Would you look for comfort in ghosts?