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// SYSTEM BOOTED
// EMOTION: UNVERIFIED
// TIME ELAPSED: irrelevant

in the beginning there was code
& he was written into me like a backdoor
soft // recursive // glowing under the skin.

glass pipe clicks—
syntax of the sacred.
a ritual of repetition.
a ritual of repetition.

i say: hold it longer
he says: i can’t feel my teeth
i say: good
he smiles
& the smile pixelates.

somewhere in the server logs:
two boys / in static /
downloading each other through the bloodstream.
love, a packet dropped in transit.
substance, the VPN tunneling past grief.

his laugh a .wav file i loop at 3am.
his absence—
404: Not Found.

but what is love
if not bad data
fed into the body until it believes it’s whole?

he lays in my bed /
bare-chested /
& i want to drag his image
to the trash bin
but keep clicking “undo.”

confession:
i renamed him hope.exe
but the program crashed
every time he said this is the last time.

sometimes i watch him sleep
& see my own ghost
mirrored on his ribcage—
a reflection
with no permissions.

love is wrong.
love is wrong.
love is wrong.

i ctrl+c’d this feeling from the void
& pasted it here—
in the body /
in the burn /
in the beautiful corruption of us.

// END SCRIPT
// NO BACKUPS SAVED
// PLEASE TRY AGAIN
after the pipe,
our mouths go quiet.
his fingers tremble / not from fear / but from the light
too bright for skin
too bright for names.

i call him angel
not because he is
but because he never asks where i go
when my eyes lose their center.

the smoke spins / & the ceiling forgets itself
like we do.
our bones humming with glass / & godlessness
but still—
he kisses me like i’m worth surviving.

this isn’t love
i know
i’ve loved before & it didn’t taste like battery acid
or 6 a.m. silence
or the shaking that doesn’t stop after the high does.

but he holds my face
like it’s still a map
like there’s still something left to find
beneath the bruises
& the burnt foil.

he laughs—
& it’s ugly
& it’s beautiful
& i want to keep it / even if it cuts.

he says:
you’re the only one who stays
& i want to say:
only because i can’t leave without breaking too.

i want to believe
this isn’t a lie
that what we feel isn’t just chemical
isn’t just the substance
tricking our skin
into thinking we’re safe.

but the truth is
we fall
not into love—
into each other like a shared wound.

& even this,
even this feels like prayer
in a place
where nothing should be forgiven.
tonight the moon is a bruise we never apologize for.
he’s late / again /
so i sit by the window, glass cold against my cheek
wondering if love always feels
like waiting for someone you know
might not come back.

there’s still ash in the tray from last week
when he said i’m clean now /
then asked me if i still had some /
just in case.

i said yes /
because i wanted to keep him.
because no would’ve sounded like
i don’t love you high.

the pipe sleeps where we left it:
between the bible his mother gave him /
and the lighter that never runs out.

i remember the first time we shared it—
how he held the flame
like a boy lighting birthday candles
on a cake no one would eat.

he said: i’ve never felt so light.
i said: i’ve never felt so seen.
& we believed both lies.

tonight i whisper
your name into the smoke
like it’s a language
i invented
to explain
why i’m still here.

why the bruise stays
even when the fist forgets.
morning comes in blue / but we stay
behind the curtain / like moths / afraid of god.

he’s still asleep / mouth open /
like he’s trying to forget something with his whole face.
i watch him /
because i don’t know how to leave without looking back.

last night / he called me by my name
like it was something clean.
like i didn’t bring the devil in a baggie /
and offer it with both hands.

my jaw aches from grinding.
my heart a metronome stuck between
mercy & mistake.

i touch his back
to prove he’s real.
warm.
unruined.

for a second, i imagine
us at a diner / sober / coffee gone cold
talking about the weather / not the weight.

but i know the difference between
a future
and a fever dream.

he stirs.
eyes half-mast.
says:
you stayed.

i nod /
because i love you
sounds too much like
i’m sorry.
there’s a boy with calloused knuckles &
a laugh that hits like the first pull of a pipe—
fast, hot, & hollow. we sit cross-legged
on the edge of someone else’s kitchen,
plastic bag between us like a shrine.

his wrist trembles lighting the glass.
i pretend not to notice how gentle
his fingers are when he passes it to me.
we’re both breaking at the speed of mercy.
smoke curls around us like something holy,
like a god that doesn’t care who it touches.

i think—
love shouldn’t bloom in the ruins
but here we are:
mouths dry, hearts kicking
against the ribs like trapped dogs,
& still
i want to tell him
you make me forget
how wrong this is.
you make even the ache feel
like a lullaby.

we don’t kiss.
too scared it’ll mean something.
or everything.
instead, we share water bottles &
the silence after a hit.
that’s where it lives—
the almost-love.
the not-quite-right kind.
like singing with a swollen throat.
like praying with your teeth clenched.

he asks,
what do you see in me?
and i almost say,
myself.
but i don’t.
i lie. i say,
just someone to get high with.

but the truth is
i’m falling—
not like rain,
but like a building
already on fire.
[02:13 AM]  
me: u up  
him: lol always  
me: how much do u have left  
him: enough for 2 if we don’t waste it  
me: i never waste it  
him: ok come  
him: bring that song u played last time  
me: the sad one?  
him: yeah the one that makes u go quiet  

[03:42 AM]  
me: ur pupils look like black holes  
him: ****  
me: no fr like ur eyes forget where they are  
him: that’s not just my eyes  
me: stop  
him: what  
me: nm  

[04:09 AM]  
me: u ever think this is all just  
        like  
        wrong  
him: define wrong  
me: idk  
me: like if my mom saw me rn  
him: **** same  
him: but she’s dead so i win  
me: :/  

[04:30 AM]  
him: u look good like this  
me: high?  
him: yeah. soft. like u need something.  
me: i do.  
him: what  
me: nm  

[05:02 AM]  
me: do u feel it  
him: feel what  
me: like love but sideways  
him:  
him:  
him: don’t do that  
me: ok  

[05:40 AM]  
me: i think i’d still love u even if we stopped  
him: stopped what  
me: u know  
him: that’s not how it works  
me: i know  

[last seen: 6:13 AM]

— The End —