we are here for the unknown,
for the possibility of falling in love
with people who were nothing
just one day ago:
boys with odd dark smiles,
mars and venus colliding when our eyes
touch,
the Bold and the Dazzling
coming in wet flushes,
in roses wrapped and snapping.
we are here for the aesthetic,
two lovers running into the twilight
holding hands holding
infinity
we are all aglow with the saints,
vines growing lush
and raw from her hands,
his hair falling into his eyes when he leans forward
and kisses her.
we are here to be music, made alive—
the guitar riffs going mad
in her stomach.
If you hate it,
if you are cynical
then you’ve forgotten what it’s like
to be seventeen/eighteen/nineteen
and be in love.
the last pavilion 