when we found the suicide angels by Chloe Burns

with their eyes full of dying stars
with the roses in crucifixes around them
and their wings shining white in the dirt
and their honeyed lips
and the words i loved you once
tattooed black on their wrists

i tripped and touched somehow
a shipwrecked cheek, and i said
that’s the closest i’m ever getting to heaven

i’ve never cried so hard
and you locked your arms around me
your lips in my hair saying oh
baby baby

all the trees bent lower
they’d been cursed by some fairy tale or
extinct god of madness to grow wild eternal
their boughs dripping dew lush as wine onto our
bent heads

fuck i said swiping at my eyes
and you held my face and kissed me slower
than what i imagine death is

i turned and watched the
mors voluntaria angels who were
porcelain dolls
rotting in the woods
if they couldn’t find it
i ask
how can we?

everything was so urgent
and so decayed
at the same time.

we left candles
subway tokens over closed eyes
quarters and lipstick tubes and the second half
of your snickers bar
it was a makeshift shrine
but we held hands
like we’d never seen anything more beautiful

we walked away
through a lifting
a smog as oppressive as hope

and i didn’t want to suggest it was
all a dream but oh
what if it was

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