NaPoWriMo, day twelve

last night we walked a tightrope
stretched from the eiffel tower to your rooftop,
and when it broke and everyone screamed,
we soared upwards laughing like mad.

next time, let’s fall right through the earth’s core, you said,
and i closed my eyes, falling down but in the fall
there was flight.

so we sank down under the city
and you painted black
around my bloodshot eyes,
singing about demons and prom, death and taxes,
god and love and jews, typewriters and vanilla,
all the stuff inside the box.

i stretched out old black wings, cracking from disuse,
dared you to fly with me,
harmonized with the warmth of your body, and

was finally able to close my starving eyes
and sleep.

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