Your hands around my throat are not as sweet as you seem. You're dragging me under the watery world we used to know, sending me below, down into the abysses we never explored while we were alive. My lungs are bellowing, my veins are sobbing, and your dead white eyes are staring into mine.

"Do you need my help?"

My decaying fingers clutch at your hands, scraping bone against rotten flesh as I try to free myself. I can't open my mouth, to let the blue atmosphere drown my body. I have to hold onto what I remember of the real world, clutch onto the idea that we can return to the land of the living in one piece.

"Just ask me for my help."

Just as I think I'm going to let go, your mouth opens, your jaw unhinging to let as much water in as possible. Your silent screams cut into my dying flesh, tearing me open and exposing my crimson regret to the world. My hands crush your fingers as my body takes over and pushes you away from me. I don't want this to happen.

"Take a whole or part of me,"

Your hand snaps off, your nub of a wrist waving goodbye to me as I start to flood to the surface. I'm no longer drowning in my clothing. The wings of my coat fly me up to the place where we breathe in salt air and not ocean waves. Your fingers still dig into my palm, worming their way into my arteries. They'll make their way to my heart, where you have always had a home.

"And ask for my help."

I know that I will die of heartache, from missing you too much. But for now, all I need to do is hold my bloody hand to my chest, take in a deep breath, and pretend that I don't know that you're decaying at the bottom of the sea.