I trace the lines of your collar bone as a foreign object.
Faint sighs heard among the ruins of walkways, parched bleach skies lurking overhead.
We are remorseful, ever mourning the advances of civilization.

Reminding ourselves of the air we breathe, of moments not long ago,
turn ash in our mouths, as we exhale poison with our last gasp.
Mornings regulate the afterthought we had yesterday,
held the cigarette to our lips, burnt fingertips gliding gently across the lost terrain.

Our eyes see everything. We dipped our worn out bones at the end of the ocean,
turned away, overlooked the passing sea anemones, making way to the edge of the world.
The sun turned to glass, aptly broken, awaiting structure, sitting still in the universe, passing planets in orbit.
and somewhere off in the distance, a star explodes.


a/n: Wrote this a few years ago, thought I should finally publish it :p