traces
lipstick traces changing the face
of what used to be an enemy
forgotten in the foggy mixture
of what became futuristic conspiracy
drinking you is like a dream from chasing breezes,
spirits run down from red glaring beams
fixture yourself in painful glories
so the mess of your age is no longer
concerned with your transitions
focus on your cancerous song that
chewed through your regard for reach
choose stranger's gazes
for the chance to escape the chaos of familiarity.
you're lost when the strange becomes familiar
motion to your fleeing spirit
as it wings high and far
never continue with the glitterings
of the things that make you free.
we are bound by a death not so lovely.
you forgot to remember me and
lost conception of the way things were raw
stark raving glad is what we were.
cut into your previous prejudices of loving me
to reveal the blackness.
-Angela Becerra
