You were a freight train collision, a suicide bomber, a highway car crash, silver glass shards gleaming in the moonlight, my breath was stolen at the fragility of the moment. As life spilled from your skin, you said you felt the heaviness in your veins and I looked at you, but all I could see was the indigo in your eyes like a pure night sky, like a dark bird, and I felt something lovely happening inside of me and I was afraid.
I tried to tell you my mind is messy.
Hot concrete and bare feet, I want to run run run tonight. This grey city is so full of the past and I will scream until my stubborn heart cracks open against the hard surface of defeat and all my little ghosts pour out. I cry. Oh, I’m not so pretty inside.
You broken soul boy, you soft lips and rough mouth boy, you low tones in a sunset painting with the sky bursting in orange boy. I’ve missed someone like you all my life and I’ve gotten used to the feeling.
I tried to tell you.
But you were a great forest fire, you were terrifying and engulfing and full of life and full of decay and destruction. And you were so beautiful, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.