They say, that the sun sets best in Arizona.
The only reason I believed them
was because the first time we met
you leaned in close, crooked smile and all
pointed to the horizon ablaze
and whispered

"I painted that for you."

I've downloaded it's image on my retinas,
so even in the pangs of night
I know it's warmth.

Through my search, I have noted:

That everything is more beautiful when it burns.

That the sparks of a first kiss will be forever envious
of the pulsating rays of the sun.
And that love isn't beautiful until it is set on fire.
You taught me that.

We spent our time getting lost in each others horizons.
Staying up late, chain smoking and
getting drunk on Walt Whitman
until morning dripped from the skyline.

And like the rainbow that serves as
a reminder of God's mercy,
the sunset is a reminder of yours.

*You just couldn't let me burn any longer.