Burning butterfly wings
at three in the morning
with tye-dye Bic lighters
and lit cigarettes.

Our bodies are humming
with pearls and pills
and I grin wide and bright
to reflect the moon.

There's 80s rock humming
and she sings along
laughing through the lines
she doesn't quite know.

I blow ashes like eyelashes
and make me a wish
for the moments like these
to stretch on and on and on.