i. you love like the low red fire of a car crash, dangerous and hot enough to make the air waver.
ii. i saw an unreliable image of you sizzling against the sky, reflected back a thousand times in all the broken pieces of what was whole, and my stomach flips like i just hit the median going ninety.
iii. i linger, but only long enough to steal a cigarette butt kiss, something to burn in my veins on cold nights, and then i'm gone like a shooting star flung to the highway’s edge.
iv. i will gone, like a shooting star smoldering under the flickering streetlight, useless in the dark between blinks of light, wishing you were there.
v. i love like the streetlight, that is to say, all flicker and no staying power. all gleam and no heat. some artificial mockery of your perfect entropy, bluffling like i could burn the city down. waiting for you to light the fuse so i can watch you carry out my threats.
i love like the streetlight, like some inevitable, immobilized burn out, stuck waiting for a fix. you jump from place to place, lighters to matchbooks to explosions that level buildings to cars flipped over the median. i could never ask you to settle or stay for long enough to watch me reignite. i could never cage you by my side, just another flickering dead light overlooking the city. i love you far too much to tell you.