the gun is smoking
cigarettes and your trigger happy finger tickles
my stiff toes
I look to your eyes with an unlucky gaze and in the
sad blacks
a bluebird flies away
I kiss the air and drop twenty-one grams of you.
a little colder, lighter, older,
I’ve died for you and you for me.
soft steps my love
this heist was ours and ours alone,
the gunpowder seeps from my skin and
pops about like a cork.
enchanté
je (te) connais mieux
mon ami
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