Going up these stairs you see it
like an apple rotting so peacefully
revere it naked transience.
Despite these wretched honks and screams
you see the time passing through our skin
nimble as the lights flicker in my eyes.
Destruction is a taciturn friend.
O, colors. Colors that I so envy
to paint my lips with. O, light that paints.
This apple is my dome and so is the city sky.
I savor the apple of your breast, ripe with decay, relishing it.
The more beautiful you get the closer is darkness.
The sky’s put on your evening dress
the orange, the pink, the pale blue
and I chase your light with every step.
See the shadows growing bigger on the pavement
nimble, the lights fade into memory.
I stop and wonder,
how can death be so desired
when I breath in your colors?