these small things that lead us further into the fog, closer to the moths, attached at the hip, nothing new. nothing blue, always red.
your guitar rips through the navy skyline, alerting the stars of war, violet mornings creeping over the trees as sleep envelops your eyes. i've dreamed of something like this, but i got more than i asked for.
i'd never go back. i'd never go back to that place where you don't exist, the dark, the damp, the treacherous. becoming a threat, was the purple leaves and blinding snow.
but the next morning was lined with amnesia, we both forgave;