Here is my confession:
a conversation starter —
I like to set fires in my own heart.
You, a blessed rag doll.
You, venetian blinds,
a moth-eaten curtain.
Change the subject —
sometimes I wander the streets of my mind
wearing nothing but a lit cigarette.
I don’t smoke,
except after sex or
getting my heart broken, or all the time,
for that matter.
Tell me about yourself —
have you never been married to the moon?
It must be lonely out there,
counting stars by yourself.
I would kiss you,
but I’ve never been good at falling in love.
Neither have you, you say,
and we smile in the way
that does not reach our eyes.
A conclusion and parting —
we could’ve been a desert storm,
hearts blazing in a field of daisies
and tobacco lungs.
I have never touched your skin,
but here is my sorrow.
Take it — this is your attrition.
Walk east, kiss the sun,
and please forget my name.
Julian de Gainza in Saint Laurent
Astronomyy | Nothin On My Mind