I don't mind letting you laze around with me on rainy Mondays, but every other say I wish you would sit and write songs with me and tell me which ones you wrote with me in mind. Your laugh echos through the house, permeating every hole in the house and every hole in me that have been made prior to you sitting around with me. You'll never know how your presence effect me unless you slip yourself inside my soul and go searching. This rainy Monday we are nothing but two people laying on the hard ground staring at the ceiling talking about death and cigarettes and how they go hand in hand. You giggle as I tell you about how cigarettes are bad and your laughter grows as I offer you a camel from my pack. We both blacken our lungs and you pull out your journal and show me everything you've written about me and how you always write when I sleep because I look like a fallen angel. I laugh back and disagree as you sit ans slowly die away, trying to sing your favorite song in the last few moments of your beautiful life. After you have fallen and that song is just a memory, I receive a package that looks oddly like the one you dropped off on our way to the coffee shop on a Saturday, two days before you died away. I open it and see that its a CD of songs you'd written jut for me and recorded so I could continue to hear your voice while we were apart. I pop it in and your uptempo beats and angelic voice keep me grounded long enough to remember how much I love you and how things will never be the same but then again, life was never meant to last forever, so I am just waiting for my time to come. But then I've decided my time is now, since you are nowhere near and that means that I have no reason to stay. I pull up a noose, still listening to your thoughts poured out in music and hearing your voice is almost as hard as losing you all over again so I pull the noose tight and can't feel the bucket under my feet but I can still hear your voice though it's cracking in and out. I blink my eyes and you are tangible in front of me just like those rainy Mondays, and your smile may be the biggest I've ever seen it and your eyes sparkle like the glass surface of a still lake and your right arm is popped out to the side and your hand is on your hip like nothing has changed. Your left arm is still but you bring it up and snap in my face as you laugh and tell me to get myself down from there, but I'm not sure I can, because hard as I try I can't breath and my limbs are numb and I'm scared it's too late to save myself, but you keep laughing when you realize my struggle and somehow the noose is gone and I'm on the ground again, but I still can't breath and my limbs are still numb and I look to you for the answers like I always have. You point up to the ceiling and we both look up at it like we used to but this time we don't talk about death because we are living it, but that's okay because I'm back by your side again.