Downfall

i want to say that i’m sorry

but i’m not

i want to say i’m sorry

but i’m not

red red red

speak in a tongue of night, (this isn’t really speech or language, we are just playing pretend, as usual)

like for example; favourite book, favourite album, favourite poem/poet/book of poetry ever

sometimes, i would skip stones across the grey matter,

just to see what exactly, mattered (if at all)

but that was when i didn’t even have a chance

red red blue red red red red red white (actually it’s cream dumbass)

two nights spent in the dark.

i didn’t really know what happened till three weeks later

then i knew, i’ve been watching french lesbian flicks, they’re hilarious,

but i can’t help notice that

I HAVE THIS FRIEND

WHO CAN PREDICT THE

FUTURE IT’S VERY

UNNERVING SEE SHE

TELLS ME THINGS AND

I BRUSH THEM OFF

CASUALLY THEN THEY

TURN OUT TO BE TRUE

see she told me that, the only stories about queer women, are stories about, their downfall…

i didn’t want it to be true, but i think it might be, and now i wonder

if somebody gave us the desire, to fall, in love, and burn everything

to the ground

in the dark, you filled my body with fire, like a furnace, and i coughed up ash, and wreckage, but didn’t care for tragedy, so i lent my head out the window and said i will re-write this story,

but then you twisted my head, to face yours, and said

but this is what i want 

the red the red the red and all the blue you have to paint

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Downfall

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