#*existentialism

They tell me you're dying again, your heart filled with cement, your lungs heavy with smog.

They tell me all it will take to save you is a kiss, soft and simple but to save a life.

If I give in, give myself, give my life, you will live again.

But your cement will fill my heart and your smog will choke my lungs.

So tell me, who's life is better to be lived? Who shall die? The tragic martyr or dauntless hero?

We've fallen apart, as we have done, again. You tie the noose. I brandish the blade. We paint new omens- sadders ones, darker ones. 'Do not forget your loves, lest you meet our fates' our story might be retold, given this lesson as if to find meaning in our tragedy.

You tell your new lover you cannot live without me. I tell the moon I cannot live with you, but I tell the moon I cannot live in a world without you.

Tie your noose. Brandish my blade.