do you remember the cold october night holding hands as we sang along to pennywise

speeding drunkenly down the highway screaming fuck authority like we were kids again

how all i wanted was to be your romeo as you were surely my juliet

but that juliet had other plans other than a faked death to trick the world

she pulled a disappearing act and romeo couldn’t pull the trigger because he never had the closure necessary

he just died incrementally of wonder and dismay clutching his hand as if it still clutched yours

folding the memories of your scent into a folder marked spam in the back creases of his brain

never letting himself say the words he never said to you because he worries any new juliet will run away

he is another failed casualty of the montague’s and the capulet’s in his own empty heart

every ending is tragic in it’s own sweet surrender in the folds and creases of rememberance

so here’s to you fickle former flame and to you current bonfire of hope unfettered and to all the flames gone to ash

i love you as i flicker in the winds of solemn sorrow softly dancing until all that remains

is wisps

3 thoughts on “w(i)sps

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