Wrapped In Gold

The remnants of your melting gold anklets ring empty

Down memory street as time starts to fade into bittersweet

Terms of endearment. A soundless soliloquy through

Freeze-fraction fallacy, every second is now a slip of a hand that sinks

Into the subconscious, changing who you are to me.

Every night you said you'd catch a star and wrap it in

Pyrite. The air would whisper a lie you'd be forced to

Believe and I’d close my eyes and look at the pink-blue horizon I’d strayed from.

The color in my cheeks is nothing more than a

Glitzy miragery, though I swear I only added a little salt to the wound.

We were complication, each step in the dark a freefall,

A canvas for intricacy. That sticky sweet, sugar-syrup voice

Of yours sugarcoats more than what you think of yourself.

You’ve played this game before, wrapped in bittersweet obscurity,

We know this scene by heart. Maybe if I’d calculated a little further into a

Graying sky, the stars would have aligned

Just enough for us to win.

Nevermind the stories, I wonder if you still think of me.

The myths on the walls say otherwise, tracing out

A map for my deathbed that leads back to your golden form.

If I were to die, hypothetically speaking, it will be

For you. You will calculate enough to win, I think,

And this time we will be inevitable.