falling in love is dangerous - like getting lost in a
labyrinth, guessing which turns to take while the sweat on our shoulders
gleams in the sun - we are too young to think to trail string behind
us, so the hope that teases us is that we will find each other.

falling in love is dangerous - at night our blood gets hot and
we break out in cold sweats, that lead to fevered dreams of empty streets
in southern towns where the heat makes the horizon waver,
and strange dreams of dark basements filled with smells that stick to our skins.

dreams that we are sleeping in a prickly chrysalis hanging on
a blood red rosebud's petals just before it blooms - when it opens,
the single petal we're stuck to won't be strong enough to hold our

weight - then we'll know the earth breaks all the promises it makes (we must be
better than the world), and that what doesn't fall through our fingers
will be taken from us (we will give up everything - to each other).

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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