To my always never lover

I am cruel and tired and

my breath is dry, its wetness lost

licking stamps to send letters

upon letters to your neighbor

to whom I've never spoken

because of you.

Now I'm peeling candle wax,

a dull cascade of pink and dust,

and considering that the candle

smelled of roses but I can't

really recall which rose's smell.

I spent my matches to burn

your letters, your love letters, your

love letters, your love and ashes from

parchment lift into the air and spiral

with my ragged breath. It's still

hanging in my throat, what

you said. And I wish to throw it up,

up, up and out through the hole in the ozone

layer that's snapping glacially shut.

I dreamt of you later and woke

panting. The thermostat broke and

the oven was on. Or was it? Before I woke

you had let your cigarette burn off into an

ashtray and you just watched the

red cinders devour paper and tobacco.

Your blue eyes were pink and turning you

said:

--RFRY, 09 Jun 06, from Christina's original To my always never lover.