The Curators

Light remains

So much brighter when it fades

And unlike what they say

Nothing stays the same

I carved your name

Just beside the felt-tip flames

On my high school pencil case

When we slept among the stains

Retinol and razor blades

Convinced that I was going to die

The first time that I came

Eyes ablaze

With your arms around my waist

And I knew it from your face

That things were going to change

Wide awake

Feeling something close to hate

Scrolling through the private page

Where the kids you said were gay

Often go to masturbate

And how long can you tell yourself

That this is just a phase

We are the curators

And the keepers of our lives

Watched a starling’s soft decline

Amidst the shepherd’s lucky sky

Like the emptiness you find

When the chemicals subside

And I’m confessing my desires

Misdemeanours, and my crimes

The voices on the radio

Continue through the night