Quando la luna si specchia nel buio
By Erija Jacobs
You crank down the window to flick your cigarette ash onto the pavement rolling below. Some of the embers get carried off, melting with the wind. Some consume themselves. The ones that survive shatter, orange glitter over asphalt, tiny sparks screaming for survival against all odds. Those are us.
I, like your cigarette, am on fire. I envision my heart, as red as a rose, erupting in flames when I think of you. And then the flames engulf my entire body. And your body. Then the seats we’re on. Then the car. Then the neighborhood you’re driving through, each house, a hot whomp of fire. Each tree, the sharp strike and fwoosh of a match. Then the city. And the state. The country. The world. An entire universe of ash burned from our love.
And, together, we’ll rise again and again and again.
I love you…
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