kiss you in hell, twin flame | poem
♪: music to watch the boys to by lana del rey
you’re six-foot-three,
silver-haired and impossible,
your presence like a loaded gun,
heavy with intent, ready to be drawn.
smoke spills from your lips —
not a breath, but an offering,
dark and curling, rising toward gods
that have no mercy left to give.
the bar hums around you,
a blur of glowing hues —
red, violet, electric —
but even its burn
feels dim next to you.
your tattoos coil and shift in the light,
serpents twisting beneath your skin,
black incantations carved into your arms,
whispering warnings i choose to ignore.
i sit by your side,
a moth caught in the flame,
watching you hold the room in the palms
of your blood-stained hands.
you laugh, sharp
as the switchblades you collect,
and i feel it in my ribcage —
a blade that slips between
the cracks i swore no one could reach.
i hate you. i swear, somewhere, i do.
we argue in the dark streets,
neon lights flickering like dying
stars above us in the city.
my voice rise and you pull me
against the wall —
your breath stained with whiskey
and cigarettes, your hands trembling
as they cage me in.
“do you hate me yet?” you whisper,
and i want to shove you away
and scream, yes.
i want to carve it into your chest,
watch it drip down your ribs,
to see how you’d bleed.
but all i do is pull you closer.
the world dissolves when we’re like this.
your tattoos curl like black magic
across your skin, cybersigilism
etched into the sharp planes of your arms.
a language only a few can read,
but i know it by heart.
i trace them when you’re stretched out
on your mattress, your shoulders
steady, the fire in you finally quiet.
your breath is even beneath my touch,
but your eyes, closed, betray you.
i know when you’re not sleeping.
sometimes, i wish you were always like this.
gentle, still, almost safe.
but then i remember the truth:
i like you better when you’re alive
with rage anyways.
when fire pours out of you
like it’s the only thing keeping you breathing.
like you carry enough fury for the both of us.
you burn, and i let myself burn with you.
i memorize every line,
dragging my fingers along the ink,
as if i’m marking a map to a place
i’ve forgotten. but the truth is,
you’re the one i keep losing myself in.
and so, i follow your shadow everywhere.
we’re back here and
you’ve been drinking again.
your boots slamming against wet asphalt,
hands already clenching like
you’ve decided to make the world your enemy.
and once we head in,
you have already found a face you don’t like,
or maybe it finds you —
words exchanged like gunshots,
a flick of your jaw, and suddenly
your fists are flying.
i don’t think. i never do with you.
i’m behind you before i even realize it,
a bottle raised in my hand,
slamming it down as i scream
for everyone to back off.
they don’t listen, and neither do you.
someone yanks at my arm and
before i react — you tackle them,
a blur of limbs colliding in the
darkness.
a carnage ensues, wildfire
in a cramped neon-lit room.
i’m clawing at someone’s shirt,
pulling hair and throwing elbows.
we’re a tangle of fists and profanities,
blood and adrenaline staining the air.
your friends hover from the edge,
half-joining, half-shouting,
their voices a haze, drowning in the
sounds of knuckles on bones.
after it’s over, you find me in the alley.
my breath is ragged and uneven while
you’re leaning against the wall,
your chest rising and falling slow,
like you’ve conquered something,
like the wreckage of your face
is just the cost of another victory.
"what the hell is wrong with you?"
i spit out the blood before i choke on it,
"you’re gonna kill someone one of these day.
stupid fucking bastard."
but we’re both bleeding.
your lip split wide,
your face painted in bruises,
an art canvas of blues and purples.
i wipe at my own cracked lip
with the back of my hand,
smearing the blood across my cheek
like warpaint. your nose drips red,
your knuckles raw, and yet
you’re calm, so calm.
"look at me,” you say,
your voice a low rumble,
and your bruised hands move
toward me.
i flinch when your fingers
graze my chin, but you don’t stop.
you tilt my face toward you, inspecting,
and i almost laugh
when my eyes meet yours —
swollen, bloodshot, a mirror reflection
of the destruction.
i say, "look at yourself."
motioning to your busted lip,
your blackened eye, the blood
streaking down your jaw
all the way to your white shirt
in perfectly imperfect lines.
you look like chaos made flesh,
a god of war draped in velvet bruises,
standing tall in the rubble
of your own altar.
i can’t help but smile,
"but you know what? it suits you."
you laugh first,
a sound that snakes through
my chest and settles in my ribs.
you lean in, close enough that
i can smell the metallic tang
of your breath, close enough
that the blood on your lip
feels like it could stain me, too.
you kiss me — sloppy and raw,
knuckles split and blood blooming
like roses between us.
it’s desperate, always have been,
like trying to keep a sinking ship afloat,
like something you’d write a love song
about if we weren’t too busy
tearing each other apart.
you call me, ‘princess’,
and i think of that night — victoria’s day,
fireworks scattering across the sky
like slow-blooming flowers,
their colors slipping into the water
of the lake below.
i’d fallen asleep on the grass,
drunk and heavy,
the world spinning too fast,
and you carried me.
your house was close —
i remember your heartbeat against my ear,
steady and loud beneath
the crackle of distant explosions.
you didn’t wake me,
not even when you fumbled with your keys,
not even when you lit a cigarette
and watched me like you were guarding
something that you couldn’t keep.
i laugh bitterly now at the memory,
because i’ve never been anyone’s
princess.
i’ve never been soft enough
to be saved, never delicate enough
to need it.
i’m no damsel in waiting.
still, i let you wrap your leather jacket
over my shoulder, its weight heavy,
its warmth yours, as if it could protect me
from anything — even you.
you lead me to your car,
and we drive,
straight into the city’s throat.
the skyline looms above us,
a cathedral of steel and smoke,
its spires dripping electric light
into the black mouth of the night.
the engine growls low,
vibrations curling into my chest,
and i wonder if this is what damnation
feels like — a place where sinners kiss
with bloodied lips and mistake
the flames for stars.
your hand brushes my thigh
when we stop at a red light,
and i should slap it away,
god knows i should.
but i don’t, i let it linger instead.
i let you leave your mark.
we’re carved out of the same
damn stone after all.
two sinners who
can’t help but sin.
two fires that only grow brighter
when they devour each other.
i’ll leave you one day,
i know that.
i’ll rip myself away from you,
even if it feels like pulling the veins
out of my own skin.
i’ll break my own heart,
just to prove that i can.
but tonight, i’ll stay.
i’ll stay and watch the firelight
dance across your face
and pretend i don’t know
how this story ends.