you stole my blanket. and with it, my security.
i want to tell you this but you can't hear me because somewhere in the corner of the room you're
coughing colors across a canvas of all the things i should have done for you
before too late became too soon, and too soon became tonight.
you wrote about the things i pretended to believe in,
and my veins turned neon green and pumped absinthe straight to my head
because the things i told you were lies i used
to stretch the truth. to make you notice. to make the sparklers in your heart open fire.
what i didn't think they'd do, of course, was kill you
i guess i should have known your light was too bright and your chest wouldn't contain it
instead you exploded into star dust and you landed in the black-lit sky
and you left us here to build ourselves homes out of the bones in your broken wings
the legacy you left behind.
like silver in a pale blue sky, it's twisting knots into the fireworks i used to keep inside.
i don't know if my fire is still