11:15

Sprinting in circles towards the edge of a cliff where free falling in mid air makes more sense than being the bandage to your unmarked skin where perfection is you incarnated and I was only ever a smear on the crystal clear glass of shops that line the streets where the roses strut their exuberance. Interacting with you is playing with fire but maybe even after all this time I like the way you simmer on my skin and the burns you leave behind are the only ways I know how to live my life because it's only always ever been pain and more pain. It's a circle a mean cycle, second best is just something forget-me-nots have to live with because the only way they are remembered is because they are a symbol of things not wanting to be forgotten. Because if nobody really remembers you did you ever really exist?