Past your line of sight in the afternoon 7:85 with their dancing silhouette.
You had only grazed their skin like plastic and set out beneath the sun.
It's like bending paper clips and tearing paper with trembling hands.
And you can't rest your head on their chest because whatever reason.
They won't say what it is and they only skip around and drag you along side.
You can't just wish to become a demon after death, it's not possible.
Neither is reincarnation, what is that? Flowers die too, do they come back?
You can dye them any color you want and metal vases are just stupid.
You still shiver with a blanket, it's just that it doesn't cover your neck.
They aren't meant to be there if they're clear cold like broken glass fingertips.
Stuff you full of unbaked sugar cookies and tea because you don't eat much.
Whatever they want you guess because you don't know, why not?
It really wasn't your fault or theirs or maybe it was or hers or someone else.
The curves and dips you walk on are worn down and float to the mountains.
It's like that big arrow with a rope kicked through your nose into a cup.
The rays are uneven and broken by the water weight of endlessness.
They belong to us and they were never mine so fight you with forks or whatever.
Play pretend like children in boxes that know how to lie to each other.
They learned it from their parents and parents and parents. (Apparently)
Red-orange basket ball shorts and bleach blonde hair are out of style.
They remind you of that while you can feel the earthquakes in your white sleep.
You're not stupid, enunciated syllables and split simple words of kids.
You remember how he used to do that and you haven't seen him since forever.
The fifth liquor bottle from the front and eleven and a half to the back.
They tickle your skin with feathers made of purple diamonds and ice.
You feel like sunglasses that make everything but the sun darker.
They were never even a slight possibility like rings and no rain.
Kisses of air through holed fabric and pride of wires and plugs into the wall.
You only surf on packed black sand a million miles away from home.
Complain through compliments hoping they get the hint and drift.
Sometimes things are just too much to ask for, totally absurd like a million.
Sex is really just child play and immaturity, knowledge nonetheless.
Blue checks to reassure them that color still exists even at a distance.
Craving and lust come in a rush like waves after just such occurrence.
Click lights and loose screws roll around beneath white beach sheets.
They play with you but down sized to candles and cream in bottles of small.
Your infatuation moves from place to place as we had through your forever.
Shut you up with thumb tacks and folded smudges about adoration.
They bite their lip in anticipation for participation in the twist kill skills.
Quick to fall and repeat because the crescent tosses a hammer in plans.
Don't tell you that they need space because revenge is set in your veins.
Faded gray in variations of vivacity and dangerous sprinkles on cake.
Slide and present to their world all that means a lot to you and numbers.
Not even wires can fix your side smile, at least it shows sometimes.
Push it at you like daily birth of children to grow up and hate us.
Confusion is carved by them in columns of cream and sugar.
Support the family with it and set the floor above their heads for safety.
Bombs come slow and yes, there was so much before hand warning.
You discarded it hadn't you? Because you're just too selfish to observe shit.
Throw away the virus while you're at it but it's not to be of much concern.
You can't really forget them no matter how hard you strain and try.
Pile on the layers and hide until you faint and possibly die of dehydration.
Their gorgeous and patient hips glow in the dark to be crashed into.
But you probably won't come home any time soon, don't miss them too much. (What a funny joke)
