Cacophonies, Constellations, and Cigarette Butts like Stars #5

I don’t know what to say when

There’s that way you half-smile against the back of your hand

When I trip across the asphalt and

I don’t know what to say when

I whisper to you on starlit nights

And you answer like you know

(you always seem to know)

And when every super nova of my body erupts into tremors because

I don’t know how to tell you

It’s not okay not all right not fine at all

That you let your cigarettes burn out your infinite mind

And turn your constellation eyes into ash.

My tears are like silver

Cutting their way down my cheeks because

I’m scared of your eruptions,

I’m scared of your sleepless night calls,

Your violins-hitting-half-noted wanderings

That hit me in the stomach when you sing along-


You’re no longer suffering with me over endless cynicism,

You’re suffocating on your own skin.

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