fragments.

we'll burn up someday in a starstruck-explosion
eyelids acidic and heavy as the world.
we'll cry and paint our arms black
but it only means as much as
their killing laughter-
[you're only as good as the world will let you be]

--

you are the brightest night of the week,
a bedtime story wrapped in glass.
i don't admit that i want to kiss your
fingerprints
until our body heat melts them off--
identity is for cool afternoons
on a love-strewn seashore.

--

lately i cannot relate to natural disasters
because i feel tragically man-made--
i am an oil spill to your
cool, uninfected breeze.
everything about you is cerulean,
enough to make the sea envious
and it is lightning on my tongue,
potent and fleeting
like dead summertime.