she poured her heart onto the paper with careless abandon, an ambivalent amputation of the woes that circumnavigate her sphere of lonely sighs

the rainy season reminds of long afternoons spent watching the storms as we lay naked making promises neither of us meant to get to things we both desired

as the thunder sounds the charge of the gates of hell falling and lightning sizzles across her delicate skin, i begin to question everything with silent motion

she stares at her phone in post coital boredom, waiting for the next love of her life to randomly text directions to the next apocalyptic excursion away

yet her watercolors still bleed through my tissue paper soul as the sky cries blood for the wrath of wounded lovers spending the last moments lost in other’s arms

daydreams are as dangerous as landmines liberally buried with the skeletons in the backyard, because the maps we draw are lessons in futility and brandished with lies

yet there are nuggets of truth, like ore in the mud and filth of languid sexual release, kernels of doubt in the sea of belief, like her fingers down my spine, they linger