she carved a space within his ribs,
left her name scrawled along
hollow collarbones, traced the
constellations on his back and
admired the way his shoulders
bore the weight of the world.

he tattooed his name on
her beating heart, the monster
that lived in his chest roared
to life beneath her delicate fingers
and he wished for the stars so
she could have a piece of the cosmos
to remember him by.

because, as he knew, good things
couldn’t last that long.

—  fate is a funny thing, k.t.