illumination

sunset’s rotten decay;
vibrant landscape reduced to a colorless calamity.

our shadows joined the cyclic desecration
and the stars set out to illuminate his fingertips
as they walked the wrinkles in my palm.

we whispered myths of asteroids,
of cataclysms and apocalypse
at the hands of the zodiac.

but he swore to God that he could save me,
humming the lyrics of a broken Led Zeppelin record into my ear,
our bare feet cradling the dashboard of his daddy’s ’67 mustang.

I remember the way our bodies shook that night,
the way our backs arched so severely,
the tips of our toes burned red,
instantly falling numb to the summer air.

There were convulsions, violent convulsions,

and it was in in the midst of this
most unsettling turbulence
that we collapsed into ourselves
only to emerge apathetic.

I lost salvation to the pawned crucifix he wore around his neck;
to the rusted silver plating that left green outlines of His body on my chest.

there was no more allure, no charm.

it was as vile as two corpses making love,
painful as the friction between their bare bones.

the butterflies in my stomach withered and died and my tainted body coiled underneath as if to somehow deflect his imperfections.

we laid there in silent contempt;
it had left us jaded,
humiliated because it felt like nothing.

and now we were left to stitch the scratches in our backs, to nurse the holes in our spines, to forever regret the things that change us.

there were shooting stars riding on the backs of constellations;
we watched as they slipped and slided down  Orion’s back,
whispering a prayer as they collided
helplessly with the unsuspecting skyline.