Sometimes, in the dark, whenever the weight of that self-destructive hate nods off from crushing my buttery thoughts, I can see the glitter of your eyes from behind the smog.
Sometimes, when very lucky, that glitter grows into an honest ray of light, all hallowed and pure, ever encouraging me to believe that all the things we were told to believe in and hold on to were true.
But the light, once too bright, awakens dawn. And dawn stirs that monstrous weight on my consciousness awake, and it rings its reminders: that I'm no longer there, no longer worthy, no longer could believe.
And we find ourselves, both you and I, crushed again under disbelief and distance.