How Urban Lovers Die

at two o’clock in the morning
I had the craziest idea
had to get you
I needed to write you
a letter an email a text message
hear my own words
on your lips only
to act as your mind,
the voice

had to get you
I’d run trough
the silent hell
for you
the road burns my shoes
I drown,
often
in the voices of the sleeping city
to listen to the stillness
my voice
and yours as the echo.

at two o’clock one morning
I had an insane thought,
the craziest idea
but you needed (her sleeping form?)
your sleep
(her)

forever and ever,
no goodbyes
fuck you too.