There are many ways to
destroy each other, but we make our choice.
It’s the slowest way, which studies the destruction step by step as it occurs and shrouds it in cloud.
We are naked in bed, for instance, when one of us says, I am your favorite and you are my favorite, so our shadows will always run from each other.
We prefer to drape our undoing in tender nonsense.
I hang velvet curtains over your eyelids, and you pull the weeds from my tongue.
One thing is certain: We are both so practiced at playing the victim that even a chrysanthemum could slice through our skin.
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