i told you i was a beautiful massacre of flowers,
you resurrected a meadow from all of the
grassfires,
but now, our love is a grave
under a garden

we were just running and
running,
gasoline dripping from our wounds.
Setting afire to all
the woodlands and cities.
Chasing and chasing,
a flock of moths into oblivion,
until we are covered with stradust
sifting from their wings.
but I still have the monarch butterflies,
petrified in the core of
my abdomen
we have the biology of wild grass in
our DNA. We will flourish like flowers
growing in the cracks of sidewalks.

tomorrow, we will plant our broken
bones to build a sanctuary for
lost fireflies,
bury them and make a graveyard
of fallen stars out of their
misguided light.
A new city of defective lightbulbs
burried underneath
the skin of earth.
The two of us are lost in a town
burried under this long-lost continent,
plagued by a beautiful diseaseg
and we have the cure.