We Have Enough Dead Friends

Come over. The doors are open,

my flat's a mess and

so is my heart

but the doors are always open.

Come over. I will make soup,

probably from frozen but

the important thing is

we will both eat.

You don't have to be dying,

but if you are,

or you feel like you are,

or if living's been hard,

call me, and I will show up.

It doesn't have to be that bad,

it doesn't have to be bad at all,

but if it is, please call.

Do you want me to do the groceries?

Do you want me to mop the floors?

Do you need to be held;

you don't have to be dying to be held.

If you want me to be there, I want to.

I'm on the bathroom floor again,

and breathing is hard,

and eating's been hard, and sleeping,

the world is a laden thing

rolling around on my chest lately.

Just being alive is heavy tonight,

but we have enough dead friends.

Come over.