she spoke sapphire




she spoke sapphire to me.
like the tear stain.d granite. when she'd
whisper. softly. of the skies
when the stars forgot to sing.

and she's kissing heartache with lips
more royal than the crown of thorns she placed.
upon herself. when the rain was falling like ashes
that I tipped from my nicotine-laced poetry. when we'd burn
notebooks like they were pornographic.
in indigo light shades. the sun is burning blue.

and she'd bleed turquoise. as her half-hearted
stucco-esqe. broken dreams/ would bend
to the will of the words she spoke like crayons on a white wall.
spraying her name, like some form of
turquoise tagging.

then. she's breaking barbells on doors.
knocking over lampshades- and the walls are bleeding azure.
while her lips are lingering over lightposts.
the neon lights- she calls home. they're beckoning.
as I watch her stumble.


we crumble as one- finish in pieces of cobalt ashes.
and if i could speak, I'd tell her
that the beauty is in the build-up. because
the breakdown.

is too tiresome. to matter.