You had to go up to see
an apple rotting so peacefully.
Despite some honks and screams
you see the time passing through its skin.
Oh, the colours. The colours that you so envie
to paint my lips with.
A dome is an apple and so is the city sky.
I grab a bite of the apple that is your chest and revere
the more beautiful you get the closer is the dark.
Each step I take I chase the light.
The sky’s put on its evening dress
the orange, the pink, the blue.
Oh, death can be so mesmerizing this evening.