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on our last night on earth you held my hand so tightly
it felt like every promise a boy ever kept to a girl. you
smiled down at me, lion-maned and strong-boned, hanging
constellations and broken guitar strings in my hair.

we talked until our voices were frayed at the edges, bodies
twining like rivers in the quiet of your bedroom. you made
me so beautiful i could hardly stand it, and so broken i
could hardly breathe.

the next morning you stumbled into wakefulness with a sigh,
arms tightening around me. you pressed your lips to my neck
and i felt the smallest of words escape: stay.
in that moment, i knew -
              
                  i knew that nothing would ever be more important
                  than the freckle on your lip, or the way my spine
                  arcs towards you like a sapling against its aching
                  roots. i knew i would never be lovelier, hair tangled
                  against the pillow, your paws on my ribcage.
                                   i knew, dear God, i knew.

we spent our last day alive burning bacon and chocolate chip
pancakes, laughing until our sides hurt. when the end came it
found us standing in the middle of your street, not touching,
not speaking. you, my lion boy, voice pitched with broken glass,
you told me to be brave, and with a courage i did not know i had
i turned and walked away from you and

i did not look back.