she spoke obsidian



she spoke obsidian to me
like oblivion that leaked from her lips
cheek-like obsession. and an onyx backdrop.
screaming -it's worth breaking
if it's worth believing. in.side those eyes.
it's always reliving.

and I wore her sorrow like tear-stained romances
torn out of my notebook. she didn't allow metaphors
-shoving a page into my chest. the ink eats me.
and she's speaking in starless skies
like a magician that's lost their touch.

she asked me if I'd dance the heartache with her-
with the somber songs singing ebony eccentrics. I'm lost
and she'd break mirrors like some modern age picasso
telling me how it's abstract- to count the years
until she's free. dumbly speaking pitches
like the black that flows from the pen
she's shoving into my veins.

and she'd tell me she's livid.
melodrama and mixed drinks. she takes the time
to speak. -s.c.r.e.a.m

and it's midnight, she sings.
her lips touch mine. and she whispers. breathe.

just breathe.

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