echo echo avery told me the story of narcissus and while she spoke
she skinned her cigarettes with nails painted promise-me pink.
tore away their paper seams, twisted tiny bitter roses
out of the fluff where their spines should have been.
echo could fold a dozen empty promises in a heartbeat.
valentines, she'd call them, and toss them away.
nothing is forever.

but i couldn't believe that was the moral of the story.

what about me? i whined, and crept closer,
flicking my lighter at her fingertips, like she'd flinch,
like i could ever warm her. i'll be honest just this once.
i might have been hoping.
she was so fucking beautiful.

i took away her nicotine flowers and kissed her
until her palms were trembling against my shoulders.
i could smell her hair dye. i could feel her heart beat.

oh, but not forever --

and then, since she was gone anyway,
i brought a carton of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka
to keep me company at her grave.
i couldn't get the stems right. she’d had such careful fingers.
and god.
she just had to prove it, didn't she.