• she lights up a cigarette and my eyes with a single match,
    we're exchanging small talk and smoke rings,
    vows will have to wait.
    the moon is smiling on the sidewalk,
    shes breathing in(somina).
    im tired, my eyelids sink lower than my expectations.
    or self esteem. depending on what point in my life this is.
    she brushes her hair off her shoulder like shes clearing a landing pad for my head.
    this is all a long walk through a dark house, in the middle of the night the third story window looks pretty inviting
    wish i was a (melanc)holy man, wish i wasnt "out of order" or "return to sender".
    broken promises that broke even in her eyes.
    she has the face of a sculpture, all perfect and white, everything in perfect proportion.
    but everything breaks, shes crumbling at the smile because even that isnt real anymore.
    her heart is made out of marble too, really hard and cold, and its not beating its cracking.
    the timbomb that fell in love with the clock.
    climb on the moon with her and talk about how far we have come,
    that even on the moon her eyes are still the brightest object in the sky
    but back on earth shes blowing another smoke ring,
    and shes blowing me off,
    my dreams exist in my head the same way the perfect woman does.
    im a caterpillar who died one.
    i never got the chance and im sure if i did it would be a last chance anyway.
    she grabs my head, her lips are the only soft thing about her, she tastes like cigarettes and i ask "is this second hand smoking"
    she laughs, the only sound that sounds authentic in my ears anymore. its the kind of laugh the heroin does in a 1930s b movie.
    the story of our life turning one page at a time and turning on me, writing love letters and writing me off.
    when the starlight shines in her eyes i lose my self and sleep.
    footprints on my chest from getting walked over,
    six feet below the caring feeling.
    its mind over matter because she is the only thing that does. when her lips curl and the smoke rises up off them, i see myself on them again, losing my tongue in her teeth.
    her hips collide with planets on the way to destroying my world.
    this is a piece of art captured in real time, painted in the moment
    but my voice cracks whenever i want to say i love you,
    but she'll never say it back either. love to her exists in a bottle, in a pill, not in words. not even in the sheets or hips. or lips.
    but i want her to know that i do love her. im in love with a wreck, i want to be the ambulance on the way, i want to be the caution tape. the only thing cautionary here is to not get too close.
    but she closes the door on her way out. its her way of keeping me out, but id rather close the door to keep her in.