It was a noir adventure to love you,
to feel you crack the ribs protecting
my heart, bash my skull against the
concrete, lick the blood spilled on
my hands.
You're an illusion built to become
ash, to vanish with the air, to escape
the clutches of time.
You're a galaxy I'm too afraid to
chase, the stars I wish pain upon,
the moon I tell all of my secrets to.
You're not real anymore; you're a
collection of gasoline breaths and
trails of matches.
Ignite for me, lovebird.
ATTENTION FUTURE LOVERS,
I THINK I BURNT DOWN AN
ANGEL ONCE.
There is no goodness left in me.
