death to death.
Tremor of light, the sky, a porcelain wall. Landing at Heathrow, a Tuesday in the fall, you are sleeping next to me. I just let go your hand, I hope I can go through with this, I hope you understand. I leave you dreaming in row twelve, run quickly down the escalator. At customs I am first in line, you wake now, it's three minutes later, I am gone.

God that was strange to see you again, introduced by a friend of a friend. Smiled and said 'yes I think we've met before', in that instant it started to pour. Captured a taxi despite all the rain, we drove in silence across Pont Champlain, and all of the time you thought I was sad, I was trying to remember your name. This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin, tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in, now you're outside me, you see all the beauty, repent all your sins.

but there's nothing interesting under here.