smoke curls from between his fingers
a cool impossibility: he adores himself.
sky wide open, pearly ink blue
absorbs idle conversation that plays for hours
in the locked rooms of their minds
he is so bright, a cursory glance will not do
smoke breathes into fringes of the atmosphere
shaded eyes in the dead of night, stale lashes
a blinding possibility.
lungs constrict. retract.
beneath the skin runs a river of fire
engulfs the deepest dark, a twisting white burn
a need for water
he lights another
flower petal lids flutter shut
sunrisen grass is a damp bed. an ashtray of glitter.
hair wilted. the party is over.
stars leak out of his veins for another night
I dunno man, I feel as if I could lie in the melodramatic universe of this poem for a long time.
Also a bit inspired by Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Ray (from which I took my title)