Everyone wants love but no one asks for this.
Before making love, make yourself coffee
because all you’ll do is make yourself tired.

Before making love to the camera, look the best
you’ll look until you’re in a little black burial dress.
Live a life with no wedding gowns, like you’ve always wanted
each other, never another, drunk or sober.

Everyone’s in love but no one looks in love on their phones,
using U for you, taking photos alone in bathrooms.
Shave your chin and armpits, suck in curves, take time,
you’re no second best, no one else’s chilled leftovers.

Break hearts, be in love, aerate flowerbeds with heels.
Play in the shadows on the world’s most magic hour,
kiss for the photographer as an axe murderer jumps from wildflowers —

Earth’s orange hue is gone quick, so we don’t have time to die,
even if you think your hair stalls the sunset.
It doesn’t, it splits like a bad date’s check.

Time here is to convince yourself you’re in love
until you say people in the photos aren’t alive anymore.

Those humans meant everything,
but soon you’ll be certain those kids are dead.