/To you, written when the storm had cut the electricity./

And in the dark

you'll feel-

countless smilers,

Pitch-black incisors

larger than your skull,

biting off your cerebral capacity-

to comprehend

what they are.

Would've been my affection,

In several celebrations

of how darkness

grips your body,

like how I would.

And in the dark

you'll hear-

a buried breath,

From loud lungs

larger than the sky,

studded with starlight

burning & blinding-

Each wishing you

to stay.

Could've been my obsession,

In unholy deliverance

of how a demon

oppressed me,

like how your eyes did.

And in the dark

you'll feel-

a million rough kisses,

Which you'd assume

was from my chafed lips

that never spoke

since you came-

Then wetted

by your name.

Should've been your delusion,

For I was an idea

of the past,

and now you're unloved,

like how I once was.