The strain on your smile is undeniable,
ashes collect below your withering
eyes and that you could be so blind
not to see anything wrong here
(Yes, something is definitely wrong)
But it isn’t on your side
It could never be your fault
For before the wolfish hunger and the putrid things
There was some eternal thing he had then
A mad fixation, an illogical thing, an old flame waiting to enkindle when the time is right
Like the sun, always setting, sinking down on a mistake, just about everyday
Forced to resort
When he is calling you, still openly keeping suggestions and saving numbers-
When did you understand, as you wondered what could’ve been keeping him from fully loving you
That now you waited only for everything to inevitably fall apart.
But could you imagine that he has been loyal all this time?
Though it wasn’t to you darling, it was to a fake ideal
To something dignified
Something deeply personal and not just potentially real
Such as finding someone washed up in the morning beside you
Seeming like the shine would never fade
Only to find out it’s not as honest and real as it used to be.
For I know
are things that sing
across distant miles the same song
They will understand anything
Even the sensation of
art never truly finished,
only momentarily abandoned.
Drifting like a pale blue speck
In the cities of there could be,
I’d now know that I could hold you as tightly as you’ve held onto me
For your words are poison, but how easy they are to hear, repeatedly when they roll on my tongue.
And your beauty is a snare, outrageously still, tailing your shadow, I ache for
that is somehow always there
somehow always reasserting itself back in small and horrific ways
Even on the shores of other ends,
Along thousands of hours, with people that know not what we have madly forgiven
Until it lets go
stumbling onto something old
Or into something new.