you see how the wheels keep turning
driving the lines of your hips
the curves of your skin
the bridge of your bones
you see and you let them turn
let them come
let them drown
in the ocean of your eyes
the forest of your hair
the constellation of your cheeks
you see and you tell them that’s what they’re supposed to do
to the main road of your back
the shortcut of your thighs
the freeway of your veins
you see
and they turn

– that’s why, darling, you’re a curse


there’s not enough oxygen in the atmosphere to keep the flame of love eternally burning
it’s impossible to measure how long it will live and how soon it will die, but death is its only certainty.
its combustion is inevitable, quick, everlasting

— that’s why, darling, I don’t wish the cool, but the coal