fading voices [ the SEQUEL to little talks ]

[ 23 ]

we may not be real but i can feel her on my lips. 

i kissed her in a dimly lit bathroom
to the beat of an indie song that would never
make it out of the warehouse garage:
forever fighting against a concrete earth
and short life span. 

she kissed back.
not feather-light,
no brakes included.
a last-day-on-earth-
i-can't-breathe
kind of
intensity.

it tore
the both of us
                  apart.

we loved it.