I have texts on my phone from dead people,

And in between the gray and green 

Bubbles of what they said to me

And what I said to them,

Are heavy heavy drops 

Of uranium water words

I meant to say and couldn't.

They hang there by the edges now

Like wall flowers who,

For some strange reason,

Suddenly have the urge to dance.

And in this same perverse scheme,

They turn on me,

And want me to dance with them.

But this is the last dance, a slow dance,

And I barely know them,

But they're guilting me out on the floor.

And while they have a hold of me,

They push their cold lips to my ear

And whisper to me all the things

I should have said.

So please, hear me:

I'm very sorry if I've ever hurt you.

I love you.

-jenn