Because it is all for nothing without breath to thrive from.
The wind carries crimson petals, and makes a mess of my hair in our eyes, my fingers tracing his lips, flesh all a’ glisten in the black light.
It occurs to me that if they want me to lead the way, I’ll take them through the seasons until my passion is spent.
I sample the nectars of lust, I’ve dabbled, I’ve left on the same winds that brought me to them with only rose petals dashed across the ruins they built for us, all broken hearts and exhausted pleasures in the grass, a clear morning on the rise.
I’ve taken and given.
I’ve done my fair share of harm on this cobblestone path that weaves into the hillside, sun warm on my face, night always on my heels, their love like the moon.
all but whispers,
That write songs
To be sung.