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
turn
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

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you say the truth with blatant lies
and I lay down with secret sights
you hide from me and seek my mind
and I look for you hoping not to find.

— that’s why, darling, we are doomed

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
finite.

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