In a grassy ditch,
lets lie on our backs
until its dark enough to pretend
we're in a meadow far away from here.
There's a skyline in the stars
and we're young and determined enough
to plan to get right to the edge
of the milky way
someday, when our hands
have held the other's for so
long that there's an imprint in the lines
so deep a psychic couldn't tell
us apart.

We are the heroes in a miniature
wasteland world and there's a fire
in your eyes when you look out
across our kingdom
and declare that
hell has never burned so bright.

Having a happy ending is still
an ending. We carry tender
little tragedies wherever we go, and hope
one day, we'll be
older than our bones.

The remnants of your last cigarette from a few minutes prior lingers on your lips
as I inhale that lasting bitter taste of your sour kiss
that I can't let escape my mind
and I can't help but ask myself if I'm giving you everything I can possibly offer to you
because by the way you look at me
and how your voice trembles when I get too close
I wonder if you miss something
maybe something you've dreamed of
or something that consumes your thoughts on a Friday night
when the concept of sleep is irrelevant
or maybe you're just searching me for that cigarette kiss
that is only found in your daydreams

It demands to be remembered.
It will stain your sight,
you can't see straight.
You'll build barriers and scream when you're blinded.
When it rests, you're attracted to the open atmosphere:
when slumber absorbs the sky.
It's everywhere.
It's contrasting abstractly, like puffy brush strokes.
Yet no one ever seems to notice the light when it's keeping you
alive.

You rarely recollect,
do you remember?

I have recognized your restraint,
your lips spawn lies.
But I still long to listen to you.

You craft cute courtesy
and I corrupt you with compliments.

You need negativity
so I brighten your beauty.

You fought for forced friendship
and I fed the fiend.

You singed any sight of my sweetness,
slowly seared my soft skin.

You chained radiation to my ankles,
now Chernobyl aches in my dismay.

You are poison
pretending to perfect your power over people.

Toxic, tangy, twisting topics,
a tacit trend to train my tongue.

You still melt my healthy heart to hate
and I'll still hope heaven will hold your hand.