it is the sixth of June and I find myself on the lips of the universe
at once, I am in nirvana, and incapacitated on my kitchen floor
appearing in one of these scenes: gratuitous blood
in truth, I couldn't say which is fantasy and which one is horror
I suspect that even in my most stable iteration, my dark indulgences will persist
to be light headed from a kiss is a luxury afforded to me once before
by her, by blood loss - which, it could be remarked, occurred in both instances
that would be facetious
when I have lived without her for so long
can I really be to blame
she was still with me, inside me
how could I be at fault
for opening myself up to see her in front of me one last time
it was nice to see you again
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