Crash and Burn

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© Saintbrush 2016

It’s a wreck. You and I
We promised the sky, only to crash and burn;
We held hands, with shaky fingers, mouthing everything we wanted to hear
Only to sleep with wedges and woes
Maybe because we filled ourselves with each other, only to empty ourselves.

Absurdly hollow are the sinews of our fingers;
Black voids dance with fervour in our chests
Ambers in our eyes, now a tepid squint
Passion engorging our soul, now softly scooped out.

It’s a tragic fall. You and I
Making love to the skin, while shredding what lies beneath
Touching our hearts, only to feel a staggering ache
Clawing through bedsheets and bones
Trying to heal the ache, only to set fire to ourselves.

We try to mend the fraying ends of our souls by quiet dinners which conclude with mechanical sex,
Barbecue afternoons with inquisitive neighbours,
Muffling our screams with dusty shrouds
Shroud of resignation. Shroud of disjunct feelings.

It’s a hangover. You and I
Psychedelic nights and smokey mornings
We barely remember how we used to be
We forgot how it was to live without that ache. The Ache That Shall Not Be Acknowledged
Maybe because we filled ourselves with each other, only to empty ourselves.

– A

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