You told me then
Of how we were meant to be,
Of how everything was meant to be.
You said you'd smoke a thousand cigarettes
And I'd kill a thousand shooting stars
I'd make a thousand wandering scars.
Your eyes are aimless, as aimless as the sand
Sifting through my fingertips,
A dream away from fraught.
I say nothing, just hear the whisper
Of my heart.
Thump-thump it calls,
Unsure of how to beat as one with you.
Silence strains to hear you speak,
For though you are ungrateful,
The smoke from your a hundredth cigarette,
Tells a better lie
Than the words from your vindictive lips.
