We sit on top of our cars,
the night is young,
As are we.
We are intoxicated,
You because of the vodka,
And I, because of your lips.
Darkness surrounds us.
Galaxies spin in front of our eyes,
We see the stars,
Illuminating our skin.
They are light years away.
Some have died.
They are pools of black now.
But, we celebrate their glaze,
Their funeral.
So beautiful, so bright.
Their death, our moment of love.
YOU ARE READING
Mirage.
PoesíaDisclaimer : I do not own the pictures, used with my poems. They are the property of their creators.
