Time stands still.
You’re happy like never before. You cup your happiness and divide it into pills. You swallow one every hour. What if it runs out? You cup your happiness and divide it into pills. You swallow one every two hours. What if it runs out still? You stretch and stretch, and on and on the carousel turns. You swallow a pill further and further apart, and the spaces within are trenches. Trenches of hurt, regret and desire. Did you forget that you could’ve cupped your happiness after every gulp and you needn’t have died with pills in your pockets, still left to swallow?
The world is burning, darling. And we’re burning with it. Perhaps he and I’ll help burn it faster. He cannot save me. Nor I him. His crimson lips will burn. And my dark locks will burn. His creased brows will burn. And my curled lashes will burn. Your sun-kissed smile will burn. You, he and I will burn.