candles and soaked matches
let the leftovers rot. let the last candle burn. let the clocks think whatever they want. this is the night, says the night, you were given. the hour, each hour, you’ve lost. so lean into me, love kiss the blue children. come cast our brief shadows together. let the wet branches lash the black windows […]More
i wanted to skim over that night, calcifying my shame into something blurry
and manageable,like a rumor about a stranger.