Between The Pileus Clouds Of Her Hometown

Her auburn hair falls into my eyes, gets tangled up with my lashes –

But only in my sleep, only when I patch up the crimson slashes.

Her curls lay on the pillows and flow on the perfectly white duvet,

A memory I can barely remember, a memory drawn in clay.

The iridescent pileus clouds swim peacefully over her hometown –

I try my best to recall that this place was never our common ground.

We tried to make houses out of cardboard boxes and compulsive lies.

The walls didn’t stand the test of time, they collapsed after our highs.

My pillows have sharp teeth nowadays, they bite me with pure rage –

Yet I still wish on a falling star, beg for the love of my dying mage.

But she doesn’t hear my cries, no, she’s chosen to look away –

My feeble ego convulses, collecting the blowback in an ashtray.

There’s a blizzard outside and an ice storm rising in my very own chest –

Her sweet warmth feels too adjacent… I mustn’t surrender or ever rest.

Maybe the hunger will implode one day, maybe it will survive,

And we’ll keep reaching for one another to prove we’re barely alive.