Until It Doesn't







If all romance meets tragedy,

I want to die a violent death with you;

Hand in hand, wearing smiles on our faces.

We’d collapse in a bed of red snow.

Both of us,

Side by side,

Laughing with wild abandon.




It’d be cold, the way you like it.

And you’d be pale, the way I like it.

The smoke of our breath masking the winter stars

Until it doesn’t anymore.



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