listen, beloved. it's how i fear they would realize
that this is just another matter of
the utmost romanticized sadness
how i would glorify spitting another hatred

i ache at the places we've been, songs we've heard,
skin we've desired. name it baby you have it
more in me and less in you, the kind that won't be allowed to.

don't scare me now dear; you had it
bloom, you touched it bright, don’t step on it red.
i won't call it (again), love. not now