don't

the only thing i've ever wanted to know was when your heart became so cold that it wouldn't even melt if i stubbed my cigarette out on it. ashes to ashes. dust to dust.

it's more like setting the scene up and then folding it back away like a circus act.

now you see him, now you don't. trick of the eye.

he's a mouthful of cigars, a heart full of tacks. a head full of static and a handful of sand.

intangible. reading all these zeros and ones have me spiraling into oblivion.

don't you want to feel my heart pressed up against yours, chest kicking and lungs screaming for air?

don't you want to feel alive again?

don't.