30.12.22
you're like scary names for pretty flowers. acting like you're the heretic on fire but you wield your guilt like a baroque. you envy death and you fear it. the duality of a Caravaggio that makes your eyes roll.
and if I'm from Neptune, you're from Mars - or maybe one of those Pluto boys who stay in the dark side of the sun, taking walks through pale neighborhoods on Christmas nights. I read too much into your numbness and I think that's why you like me.
you wear your childhood like a veil. I wear my childhood like a cloak. we like to pretend we're not the same, but we're very much aware of how our ears collide in the back of strangers' cars. cowardly. quietly. pariahly.
you took me home tonight. I'll stay at your next time.