it's going to be the last time,
for the first time

you and me,
in the rain

with our tangled ribcage

falling...
through honeysuckle promises,
to revive;
death.

,

etched deep in our bones-
secrets;
of our laughter,

left in yesteryears

tattooed on our lips,
is the pain
that you and I inflicted on each other

the melody sinks
into our ballooned lungs,
as we drown.

the symphony crackles
on the crease of our crinkle;

and the bedspread
remain
undisturbed

,,

the beachside
crashes waves in fervor
as we moan in the moonlight

you and I
melts into one
long pause of suicide pretense,

yet in semicolon

we linger;

like a twine
holding
the pour of a broken branch

...