one more for Lily

we never were meant to be beautiful,
breathing with sawdust lungs
and praying we would choke on vomit
when our backs sagged
and our mentalities resurfaced
in the very cesspool we often drank from

it felt so goddamm good to rot,
slandering affection with imbalance
so mdma love would comfort the dysfunction
of insatiable suicidal lust
before flesh and organs
felt putrid in our breasts

it was a grimy sort of romantic,
the acceptance of the streets
embedded between the crevices of our fingernails
mirroring crescent scalpels
and piercing the makeshift bandages
we fastened from the sickness of our youth

it was easy to play with thorns back then,
dragging them across our faces
so we could talk to god
I'd forget if we were speaking as angels or demons
but the skelton rosebush beside your name
never fucking fails to remind me
that we never were meant to be beautiful