Romeo + Juliet

They were the ones blending colours, sitting on sand.

They laid their memory across an unfolded map
and cut delicately, with a small blade
the pulp of their fingers.
Repeated at intervals and the blood drops livelier
within the watercolour dust, a mixture
somewhat magic, born of alchemy.
Three drops off the fourth cut turned the grey
into a minute pond of liquefied tin.

They were the ones pasting colour across spirals of skin
with the serenity of time, enveloped in words, in worlds.

They were the ones collecting coins of numerous
hues and countries, selling their bodies to extinction.

The sun broke through, between the horizon and the beach.

That was the instant when she reached for her pocket
and held a gleaming white scalpel. The day hesitated.
She traced a line across his left eyelid and they kissed
with moist lips of red saliva.

They were the ones who saw the frame was crumbling.

And as things fell apart
Nobody paid much attention.