​us, beautiful disasters, the world, our enamoured artist

i want to desecrate the louvre with you,

set the towers of the notre dame ablaze just to see how tradition falls.

i’d streak the walls with sin and lost dreams

and scream at the sky until the smoke clears.

( we are not prone to torn throats and bleeding hearts,

we are angels after all /

not quite divine,

but our wings are aflame /

we carry justice in one arm and in the other, /

a hand snaked around a willing waist )

you are the only one for me.

i want to steal from museums,

to eat pages of manuscript for breakfast, lunch, dinner;

we will make it a history worth telling, love;

when they say, “what happened?” we will say,

“us”

and the world will spin itself anew.