Dear Abbey

Dear Abbey,

What the fuck am I doing?

Burn

I hope there's a slug in your morning drink
and you're haunted by dead souls above
I hope there's a mouse in your kitchen sink
and your craft dies slowly, as does your love

I hope the china shatters
and the record player breaks
I hope your heirlooms melt
and your hands start to shake

I hope that you love me
and I love you too
I hope that we burn
and it remains true