Somewhere on the outskirts of hell, there’s a vision of two lovers embracing. A lakeside smile beneath trees barely existing. Photographs not taken. Words never breathed. Illness, madness. They transform this dull shell into something quite strange. Hands on hips and mouthfuls of your hair as beads of sweat trickle into my eyes causing me to curse your name. Such a cunt. Such a whore who needs to take everything I’ve got. Only you were always stronger than me. With stars passing from my body to yours, you taste life where I taste death. You dream of faces, I dream of the new universe. Whatever became of those pale red dots, those silent realities now dead for billions of years? In the time they rushed and fell into the clutches of oblivion, we were waiting to be born, and then we were born, and then years later we met. We kissed by the side of the road, and as you swayed in my arms, there was nothing but regret knowing that one day we would end up hating each other. Aeons of dust, conscious and able to speak. Sometimes worthwhile. Sometimes junk. But when it’s poetry, it’s always beautiful, and when I watch the sunset from my window, there’s only your face I see. Despite everything, when these atoms align themselves just right, it’s you who’s dancing in those timeless fields of corn. There will always be others, but there will only be you. My favourite feeling was the sight of a secret smile, but making you cry was just as good. Love should never be boring. It should never be comforting. Let me adore you as I reduce what you are. Let me write a story and place us in foreign lands as all that we know is on the verge of destruction. Let me smash you to pieces. Let me hold you close and guide us safely through the fearful night.