I drown to you
like a moth to the flame,
ignoring pain,
ignoring burning wings.
attracted by light,
by warmth, by your nature,
abstract, mystical and elusive
like dancing shadows on the wall.
I hopelessly fall in the trap,
Into the open arms of death.
tears of the moon, cold silver flickers,
woven into the canvas of the night.
last visual memory,
before the darkness
consumes my eyes.
…the sunrise will wash out
handful of ashes.
past is lightweight and overrated.
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