she's screaming heartbreaks
and bleeding art. again.
and it's always the ones that slipped away
that hurt the most to think of.
she used to say.

and his web is tangled. stringing
words of silk. -and a little
venomous.love.
and he speaks of the missing s
on his chest. but she still
calls him her spiderman

it takes two to tango- but only one to trip
slip a little. and fall to the ground.
she's karma intangible.
his mistakes coming back to praise him
and it's beautiful when she speaks secret seances
singing broken hues of misfortune.
and he breathes into her ear

'I'm no superhero
but that doesn't mean I won't try'



her voice is steady. stabalizing in moments of epiphanies
and with her eyes wild with desire.
she'll break bread with the slightest of notice.
and he sleeps in portraits of her plights.
wanting to ignite her eyes again.

and he speaks.
'I'm no suuperhero.'

and she voices.
'just try for me.'


and in the end it's never futile. or useless.
when her eyes turn glass as he whispers.
in her ear.


'I'm no superhero.
but for you. I'll create with these hands'


and his text makes her tingle.
fingers weaving tales of heroics that he dreams.
she beams with desire.
and in the end. it's always the same.
he's never her superhero.
but she doesn't care.
because he's far more than exceptional
and she's far more than in need.

he's no superhero
but for her.

he'll never stop pretending.