run with me to
and summer sunsets
like purple velvet set on fire.
fly with me to
such great heights
and don't look down
on patchwork landscapes of your world.
don't break my heart
like red stained glass
of church's windows
downtown inside the red light district.
you are encased in shadow.
i know that i would love the way
your eyes sparkle in the light
if i could ever see it.
but my body won't let me --
i still have so many things
that stare at me with your eyes.
the book you gave me on mythology
still has the story of narcissus dog-eared and worn,
and it sits high atop my dresser
where my eyes won't stray;
but it's more like
a damn throne than
i memorized the story when you left
because it reminded me of you.
we went to a thrift shop that one day --
you might not remember,
because i think you might've had
a drink or five beforehand --
and you bought me a necklace that
cost a quarter
and told me trash was treasure, sometimes;
i wanted to break the chain,
but you were excited so i put it around my neck
like securing a noose;
i still wear it every day.
i like to keep death by my side,
and a noose can't be too bad --
i already lost my breath to you.
i remember that we went to a chinese place --
or maybe it was thai --
and you mimicked the waiter's accent
when he took forever with the food;
i laughed til my stomach hurt,