The problem with playing wolf is
they’ll never believe you till it’s over.
Tired of hearing her own empty words and promises.
She turned off the lights.

The sun will always shine

Where the weeds have died.
And from that moment,

I knew our love was fragile.

Thorns.
You made.
Poked and prodded
You invaded my soul
As if I were a cesspool
of your worst nightmares.
And the sad thing is,
I let you.

Chase the sun.

Then watch it fall.
Water her ashes, but keep her dry.

Only then can she thrive.

A kaleidoscope of fleeting embers appears beneath the fireplace—
Burnt ashes permeating these hollow halls of winter.
Faded cards with Christmas carols mark the existence of another absolution
Where we invent ourselves from glass crystals and a nonsense
Fanatical of perfection.

Shards of rainbow-colored glass on the floor as we run barefoot among the stars.
Sparks of yellow and orange and blue and red and gold illuminate
The dreary existence of this lonely town.
As we search for new illusions to
Fill our drunken hearts.

Chestnut leaves fall onto the ground
As we countdown—
Five…
Four…
Three…
Two…
One…

Another year gone—
Another soul taken—
To cashmere sweaters and expensive screens.
What have we become?