there are so few flowers these days choking inside your shaking hands, and i walk these streets to retrace my steps to come to where i left something i swore i’d never let go of.
our love was pale and every golden sun is a blade of cold twisting into stone. do you remember when we breathed that mountain air and held each other close and slept until morning? now think about what you’ve done.
i can’t resist the shapes our bodies made. we jumped into the sea and sank like stones. (it’s not real. don’t try to dream.)
where were you when the sun fell? every mask is a tomb.