Untitled Poem

The white bleeds into grey
as I scream- faster, faster!
You say- I don't know, dear.
And on my fence,
I hold my place.
On your mark,
ready?
set,
go.
To spring back,
I can't see.
Forward
too slow.
"Move me, move me!"
You lick your lips
Part them sweet
and blow away your birthday candle.
I woke up pale tonight needing your lips
glanced into the blank screen.
Maxed out my free time.
The last thing you said- I'll answer.
Lines deaden in silence.
Well make your wish today
for this will be your last.
I may fall.
Not far.
Not hard
for you.
I may bruise my knee,
but you won't be there to see the blood seep through.
Behind this fence
I don't see you.
Grey fades in to black.
No turning back.
On your mark,
Ready?
Set,
go.