The eclipse lit corridors
of our grandoir stage.
Basking in your shadow
Calms the tempest
that brews within
the caffeine infused blood of mine.
Each word that spills from
the tip of your tongue
is like the first kiss
the Earth has with the Rain.
All of this reechoing sound
is meant to be dismantled
like a severed limb
from a Ken doll
and grains into lead bullets
that slightly brushes past
the curvatures of my exit wounds.
Because,
you do not love me.