[untitled.]

burn my skin when the lights go out.

a reflection flashes from the window, and across your face. the haze of a dream, a grin in slow motion, low saturation glow.

all i catch is the flash of white teeth. your smile is a mask, and words are just used to hide the lies strung between the lines that have been twice erased.

it is all fear. but to who does it belong, me or you?

just tell me the truth. just say it, even though we both already know. i need to see you say it.

what’s stopping you from ripping my throat out? (remember, this is a dream, you can do whatever you want.) do you really not want to believe it, or are you just scared of what you know you’re feeling? fear of admission, fear of letting it out from under the far back of your tongue into the open air for all to see.

but the shape of my name never did sit right within your mouth, did it? it only sounds right when you spit it the fuck out. that’s just how it is, now. i get it. it’s a uncomfortable taste, i know.

your eyes don’t shine so bright in the dark.

but neither do mine, not these days.

- f. e. celler

05.10.20