You and I are going nowhere in particular. You and I are nothing in particular. You and I are falling in nowhere in particular. You and I are not what I want us to be. You and I? Is it even you and I anymore? Can it be you and I against everyone else? Can it be just you and I?

Because of you,
I write
And if only you knew
You're there
In every piece of the poems
I write

I can paint you a whole world but never can I paint myself an escape

It occurred to me this morning
As I shuffled under the sheets of his skin
That if he was Fat Man,
I was Nagasaki
And if he was Little Boy
I was Hiroshima.

Because in the end
I will be the one with the disintegrated body
And deformed children of memories
And he will fly free,
The mushroom cloud of my soul's ambition
Billowing in the distance.

Your lips,
they're as red as cherries
and as sweet as Sherry

I'm pretty sure
only a sip of them
can get me drunk

But darling,
if it's your lips that I kiss
I'm willing to get intoxicated