we scream in our sleep
until our lungs are thin
and decaying, the only
things keeping you from hearing
me are the paper thin walls i have built
around me.
every night, i close my eyes,
hold you hand and let the purple
light wash over our rotting bodies,
awakening us from a restless
slumber.
we float around and
laugh until we cry, tears like
silver on our tanning faces, summer
lingering in our eyes.
my feet touch the ground
but i jump, and so you follow,
our bodies tangled on the floor-
a mess of broken glass.
when the light hits us
just right, we are
(almost)
beautiful.
so in our glory, we dance on
the moon, rays of sunlight burning
us to the bone until our skeletons
drift through the milky nothingness.
when i open my eyes, my bed
is cold and the world is dark again.
until our lungs are thin
and decaying, the only
things keeping you from hearing
me are the paper thin walls i have built
around me.
every night, i close my eyes,
hold you hand and let the purple
light wash over our rotting bodies,
awakening us from a restless
slumber.
we float around and
laugh until we cry, tears like
silver on our tanning faces, summer
lingering in our eyes.
my feet touch the ground
but i jump, and so you follow,
our bodies tangled on the floor-
a mess of broken glass.
when the light hits us
just right, we are
(almost)
beautiful.
so in our glory, we dance on
the moon, rays of sunlight burning
us to the bone until our skeletons
drift through the milky nothingness.
when i open my eyes, my bed
is cold and the world is dark again.
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