You give expensive presents
but your presence is cheap,
leaves me feeling worthless.
I attempt to tempt love from your lips
but you return an empty kiss
squeamishly
as though I were a corpse.
Meeting your gaze feels shameful
like walking in on your parents *******.
(I even blush.)
In the vacant catacombs of your eyes
flames of a crematorium blaze.
I’m not even dead yet;
but in this glance, I learn
that we are.

I can’t help but sweat
as my lips turn to ash,
as my love goes up in flames.