She was the dream untethered in my mind
a flame that moths cannot ignore
all the others said “what are you doing?”
But we flew into that fire together
hopeless junkies
mainlining love and sexuality
And now we’re burned and calcified
we tried to dream
and now we die
Hopefully a tree will bloom
upon the grave of our lost swoons
to turn this anguish into something new
The cycle of love
By
Abbey Pope 