Obsolete

I talked to your pillowcases,
They say they miss your smell,
And if your crumpled sheets have anything to tell,
It’s that they’re cold without you.

Pinned up paper doll,
How do I go about losing you?
The words they said were true;
You aren’t coming back.

So tell me,
How does it feel to be obsolete?
If you ask me, you’re a cheat;
You were too young to leave.

Lean towards the sun,
I’m on the run in my head.
Fall from your bedspread,
And pray with me.

And tell me,
What does heaven taste like?
I’m on the verge of a strike,
Against the process of dying.