the back of our throats Burn here

with the cool air of the night rushing to our lungs

trekked through sleet and slush to get here

we stare to the graffiti we’d done last year

you said We Were Pretentious

with our Nihilist eyes

we lie at the Underpass

our coats Soaking up Slush and warming our backs

our initials etched into the concrete

you’re consumed with a bitter cloud of cigarette smoke

i sip my cherry cola as it slowly freezes over

the sky is ink; black as a Raven and calm like a Sleeping Child

you preach Ecclesiasties as i break down over The Future

what hypocrites we are

snowflakes stick to your Hair, your

hairspray rendering rigidness

our eyelashes are Frozen and you’re

lying Still in Smoke and our

spray paint’s peeling off and my

Teeth are Stained with Cola and we are

Living

painfully recklessly heart-wrenchingly longingly astonishingly distressingly achingly

cunning and cutting and burning and blazing and hellish and tired and thrilled and bored

and it’s the Realest Thing We’ve Ever Known